


Listen to silence

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epistolary, F/M, Fighter!Bellamy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It's hard to explain, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and badass clarke who's calling him out on his bs, and yes it's bell, clarke's rich and he's a criminal trying to steal her car, criminal!bellamy, in a few chapters, kinda? I guess, there's hurt/comfort as usually for me, thief!bell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 155,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: Bellamy Blake is a seventeen year old who steals cars to make enough money so he could get his sick mom medicine and his sister food. One night he picks the wrong house to break into and gets caught by Clarke Griffin and her dad. When he thinks that this will be the end for him, he'd be exposed and send to juvie, Clarke looks into his eyes and sees something he can't see in himself.She extends her hand to him.But will he take it?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 263
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a new fic I have been working for for about a month. It started out more or less as a joke from a post I made on twitter and I intended to write 10k but it is now maybe around 70k and it's nowhere near done so I have no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> This is the most I have been uncertain about a fic, so comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan

It was supposed to be his last hit. 

One last time, one last car and he’d stop and go back to just fighting a bunch of moronic kids like himself and maybe get a real job.

But his mom was sick at home and his sister was hungry, so he told himself he had to do this and Anya had smiled knowingly at the word “last” as if she was certain this promise he was making to himself was doomed to fail while showing him the Griffin mansion on the city map in her so called “office” before sending him off.

This wasn’t who he was supposed to be, he thought as he made his way up there to the garage door and carefully looked around for the opened window that had to be there according to the scouts Anya had send in the neighborhood. 

She never failed to pick rich when it came to stealing cars, making sure that the hit is big enough to pay for her and those she was so tightly holding in her grip, like Bellamy, never mind the fact that he was risking his life and could die out here if the police showed up or the owners caught him.

Bellamy shook his head, he didn’t want to think about the fact that he was just another statistic from his neighborhood-a poor boy of color who went around stealing cars, had a record and struggled to support his sick mom and his ten year old sister.

The thought made him angry and when he finally found the garage window he smiled to himself and carefully crawled inside. 

He ended up falling on the floor with a harsher thud than anticipated and unfortunately on the same side that the bastard from last night had hit pretty hard in their so called underground ring. 

He felt his ribs crack and though the pain was blinding, he forced himself to stand up, commanding his lungs to contract and ground him back to reality.

“It’s okay…I’m okay.” he whispered, as always calming himself down before taking out the thin metal piece he used to shove between the window and the door of the car and try to set it open.

His ribs hurt so much, though that his hand shook and for a moment he had to stop and gather his strength before resuming his work. 

That one precious second, though, was exactly what the universe didn’t want him to have. 

While struggling to pull himself together, hands on the window of the car, the garage door started moving up faster than he had anticipated and light poured enough to expose his figure.

“What the hell!” a male’s voice shouted and Bellamy cursed before dropping the metal piece and rushing to get back to the window he crawled into from. 

But it was too high up and the man was already yelling for help and running towards him.

He stepped up on a few boxes gathered in the corner and his hands swung just enough for him to grab at the window still.

There it was, his salvation. 

Now all he had to do is command his arms to raise him up enough for him to jump outside. 

The guy would never knew who it was-the car was there, the bust didn’t happen and he was just another criminal with his hood up, trying to rob a rich guy’s house.

The cliche of it all almost made Bellamy laugh until he remembered his failed attempted and wondered what the hell would he do when he went back home without the heart medicine his mom needed.

He was just about to succeed when the man’s strong hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled him down harsh.

He held onto the window with whatever strength he had, hearing other voices behind him now too, a girl’s one, screaming her dad’s name, asking him to let Bellamy go cause he could be armed, but the man was stubborn, just as much as Bellamy was to get out of here.

He still reaches out to pull himself up in one last desperate attempt but the window smacks down in his left hand that’s reaching outside and shatters in it. 

He feels a big peace dig into his palm when he opens his hand and tries to hold on to the window still but he only ends up making matters worse and he can’t help but cry out at the pain of the glass in his hand.

To make it worse, the guy finally gets a hold of his other leg too, grabs him so hard his bad side hits in the concrete wall while he flails and struggles to free himself and that’s enough to send him flying down, hands loose in the air.

He feels himself fall on the ground, hitting his head on the floor and the last thing he remembers is two figures hanging over him, one of whom looked like a bright yellow dot that shone so hard it blinded him. 

He smiles, thinking that if this is it, if he’s going to juvie, at least he got to see the sun one last time.

* * *

He wakes up to a strong hand shaking his shoulder and once he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings, his first instinct is to get up and run.

But the same strong hands pull him down to the chair and when he tries to use his hands to fight the man, that same guy who found him in the garage in the first place, he realizes that he can’t.

They are tied by the wrists with a white plastic cord and he tries to get them free but all he does is make the material dig in his wrists and leave red marks. 

The glass is still sticking from his palm and the movement of his hand makes the pains so bad, he grunts.

“Easy, there, don’t move!” the man commands and though he’s furrowing his eyebrows at him and giving him his most critical look, there’s something warm and soft in his eyes which Bellamy can easily recognize as pity.

_It makes his blood boil._

He knows damn well how he looks to this guy-he was wearing old washed out jeans that were torn up at the knees and not in the fancy way, a red t-shirt turned inside out because it was too dirty and a ragged grey sweater that was too big for him but was the next good thing his mom found in the thrift shop a few months back. 

He could count on his hand the number of clothes he possessed, not that he really cared-he had everything he needed back home-his mom and his sister. 

And he had to get back to them.

So he tries to stand up once more but he must be really weak on his feet or have hit his head too hard because the man easily pushes him down on the chair like he weighted nothing.

“Please stop, you’re hurt.” he says and this time his voice is gentle. 

Bellamy avoids his eyes and takes a second to look around-they must be in the kitchen-he can see the sink and the cupboards in the near distance as well as a big fancy island in the middle where he imagines a happy family having their fancy rich folks breakfast and their perfect Ethiopian coffee. 

The thought makes him bawl his hands in fist until he feels the glass there cut through his fingers and he lets go with a quiet whimper.

“Is he awake?” another voice chimes in and he opens his eyes to find a blond girl dressed in pink care bear PJ’s and white shirt coming in with what appeared to be a med kit in hand. 

Her lips are pursed in a determined scowl and she kneels next to him, carefully reaching for his hand. 

He pulls away before she can take it and winces again when he feels the glass dig a little deeper.

“You know if we wanted to call the police, we would’ve by now but my daughter here convinced me to give you a chance.” the man scoffs coldly after Bellamy’s stubborn fiasco. 

His eyes roam between the young girl who must be about his age and the man with the pitiful eyes and he swallows hard. 

There was no way he could overpower them both, not in that condition and though his eyes were fixed on the back door right next to the fridge, he couldn’t actually see himself getting there unless they left him alone in the room which he doubted would happen anytime soon.

“Of course that can change” the guy adds and a shiver runs down Bellamy’s spine, but he hides his fear and tries to sit a little straight.

“If you want to call the cops, do it. I don’t give a damn.” he announces and the man runs his hand down his face tiredly but the girl just looks at him curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Bullshit.” she says standing up and crossing her arms over her chest “Do us a favor and cut the crap, being a hero helps no one, especially not you.” he’s so stunned by her calling his bluff that he has to force himself to keep his eyes on hers and not flinch in a way that would show him weak. 

Hers are a piercing blue that he finds himself so easily drowning into that he has to move his wrists in his restrains and feel the pain to be sure that he’s not hallucinating. 

“Dad, I could use some hot water for his hand.” she announces but the father makes no move to leave.

“Clarke, he could hurt you.” oh so he got a name now. 

_Clarke._

That didn’t sound like a spoiled princess name, he thinks but he digs in his head all the information Anya gave him on the Griffins before she sent him here-the wife was a famous surgeon in the best hospital in Sanctum and the father was…a mechanic? 

He couldn’t recall well. There was nothing about a daughter, though. 

Surely not that feisty.

“We searched him, he has no weapons.” she says reasonably “He’s hurt, I’m pretty sure he has a concussion and he’s favoring his left side which I assume means his ribs are bruised if not broken…and he’s tied up, so I think I’ll be safe.” apparently she had the same magical effect on her dad as she did on him because the man leaves and this time she comes by his side and grabs his elbow.

“Come on, stand up, it’d be easier for me to patch you up on the counter.” he thinks about struggling and she must feel it because she does dig her nails in his arm a bit too much once he stands up, but she’s right-he’s weak on his feet. 

The fight from last night left his body covered in bruises and tonight’s failed attempt only added to his injuries, so he follows her lead and lets her sit him on one of the high chairs. 

He’s so ashamed of himself, his clothes are soaked from the rain outside that got him before he tried to break in, he was all broken and dirty, probably smelling quite horribly and he was caught trying to steal their car.

Despite it all, she reaches for his hands holding a knife out and he shivers at the sight of it.

He never did like knives.

“I need to cut that off so I can clean your hand.” she says glancing at the plastic band wrapped around his wrists “If you try to run, hurt me or my dad or god forbid, steal out car again, I’ll call the cops, okay?”

He swallows hard, not liking at all the fact that she’s calling the shots but after a minute of intense staring between the two of them, he gives her a nod.

The cord snaps free and for a second there he does contemplate pushing her off and running for the door but something stops him.

_He has no idea what._

But it stops him.

And the feeling scares the shit out of him because Bellamy Blake never jumped without having a safety net waiting for him in the end but now he was letting himself fall off the edge free and without restrains, but also without anything waiting to catch him on the other side and it was terrifying.

He’s heard Anya call it a leap of faith.

But he never believed in anything in his life, he’s always had to count on his own strength, his own capabilities but now he was surrendering to a pretty rich girl with beautiful blond hair who called him on his bullshit and took his bloody dirty hand in hers without so much as a flinch or trace of disgust by his state.

As if reading his thoughts she starts taking out the bandages from the med kit and dabbing some of them in what must be antiseptic.

“I’ve volunteered a lot at the hospital my mom works at.” she explains and he nods when he watches her take a better look at his hand and humming to herself quietly “This will leave one hell of a scar.”

Just as he’s wondering why her dad is taking so much time to bring a bowl of hot water and if maybe he’s calling the police while she’s keeping him in place for them to catch him, the man comes back and gives him another wary look.

“That’s nasty. Maybe we should take him to the hospital.”

“No” he pulls his hand away harshly but Clarke’s faster and wraps her fingers around his wrist to keep him in place.

“So he speaks once more!” the man says as he settles next to his daughter who resumes on her work, taking his hand and dipping it in the bowl,the water turning red in mere seconds, before she carefully takes the glass’s edge and pulls it away, making Bellamy yelp.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks when Clarke’s cleaning the cut from the small particles of grime and glass. Bellamy doesn’t say anything, like hell he’d give them his name only for them to turn on him tomorrow “Where do you live?”

“Dad, I doubt you’ll get much of anything from him.” he grunts when she applies a bit more pressure on the wound and then covers it up with a thicker bandage before gesturing for her dad to hand her the longer thinner ones which she gets to wrap around his hand.

“You need to keep this clean or it will get infected.”

“What do you suggest we do with him?” he asks his daughter but she’s too focused on fixing his hand to answer “We let him go and tomorrow he’d be running around the neighborhood stealing someone else’s car.”

“We’ll report him.” she suggests and a shiver runs down Bellamy’s spine. 

He glances at the clock, it’s four in the morning. 

In about an hour, his mom would wake up and try to get to work, though she’d be too tired and weak. He had to get there and stop her. 

“Tomorrow. We’ll say we heard someone break in but we never quite saw how he looked like.”

“Clarke-”

“Dad, look at him.” she cuts him off before he tries to reason with her but Bellamy’s eyes are still moving between the back door and the clock. 

He could make a run for it, all he had to do is be fast and smart about it. 

The girl was clearly suffering from some rich hero complex probably a result of the many charity events she must have attended since she was a kid. 

All he had to do is play into it.

He stands up and sways on his feet violently. He thought he’d have to fake this but he really was in pain.

The chair scratches against the floor and both of them are standing in his way, suddenly shaken by his rapid actions.

“Please-” he begs stretching his hand out, his other shoots for his ribs which protest violently at the movement. 

His head spins, he must’ve had a concussion because the world goes in a blur for a second too long and he has to shut his eyes to prevent himself from falling 

“Just let me go.” he asks.

He takes the minute they’re contemplating to move another step forward and though he felt his left leg heavier at the ankle, he must’ve twisted it when the man was trying to pull him down, he doesn’t expect it to buckle so rapidly that the world goes upside down and he’s suddenly falling to the floor.

Big warm hands catch him this time and when he opens his eyes again, the man is looking down at him worriedly.

“Shit, he probably does have a concussion. We need to call an ambulance.” he must feel smug for being able to fool him but in all truth, he does feel really bad all of a sudden and he really didn’t fake that fall.

He was really good at commanding his pain. 

Some nights when he hurt too much after a fight, he was able to shut off the sharp pain in his ribs or head or his busted face and fall asleep, ignore it all, tell himself that this is not about him and he had to hold on for Octavia, for his mom.

But other times as if to punish himself for being bad, he let his body relax, drown into his pain, suffocate in it while his mind kept telling him he was a monster, that his mom never raised him like that, that he deserved to suffer.

So he lets his pain overtake him now too, for just a moment and in all honesty, he’s not really lying to them now.

_But he uses it, uses their good hearts._

And when the girl runs into the other room to get the phone, he squeezes his eyes shut and lets her father hold him a minute too long just enough to fool him, to play perfectly into this role but also…a part of him indulges in this feeling of someone’s warm embrace around him, of this safe net that caught him without him asking for it. 

He can’t remember the last time someone showed him kindness like this.

His eyes fill with tears when he opens them up and when the man looks at him he realizes something’s wrong but before he can say anything, Bellamy’s pushing the pain away and twisting away from his grip.

“I’m sorry.” he says when he’s supporting himself on his hands and legs, half up, feeling the blood from his hand seep through the bandage Clarke had just wrapped around him.

_Healing be damned._

_He has always been broken._

He raises his fist and hits the man as hard as he can in the face. Because he doesn’t expect it he falls on his back holding his bleeding nose. Bellamy struggles back to his feet while the guy’s yelling Clarke’s name but before she can come back and stop him, he’s out the door.

And he runs.

Faster than he ever has. His feet feel so heavy, his head is blurring everything before him, his hand drips blood and he knows he’ll leave a trail for them to follow, should they call the police.

He can’t think about that now, he has to go back home, get as far away from here as possible.

As dangerous as it is, he chooses to cross the park nearby so he can end up right back on the bus station and take the one that will get him home. 

He doesn’t realize how bad he’s struggling to breathe until a elderly woman on the bus gives him a curious and disgusted look.

He stares down at himself-his clothes are still soaked but now he’s also sweated through them, his hand is bleeding through the bandage Clarke did and his good hand is curled up on his bruised ribs. 

While he was running through the trees, he let the branches tear at his clothes, his body and somewhere in the midst of it all he tripped over a root and fell down so hard, he tore whatever was left of his old sneakers so now when he stepped on the ground he could feel the rocks leave a mark on his foot.

When he digs his hand in his jean’s pocket he finds the last money he has left there and suddenly he remembers that he was supposed to pass by the pharmacy before he goes home.

He stands up and yells at the driver to stop, though he’s already missed the place he was supposed to go off at. The man seems annoyed and because Bellamy won’t stop yelling, he opens the doors and he jumps off while the guy curses at him for almost getting him killed.

Bellamy doesn’t care.

He heads straight for the nearest pharmacy that’s just around the corner as the rest of his neighborhood comes to life. 

Arkadia has always been the poorest part of the city, so much more different from Sanctum that he just left with it’s nice green gardens, big cars parked outside and enormous houses where people of money lived in luxury while half this neighborhood served as their help, his mom being one of them. 

She worked for the Lightbournes who were just a few blocks down from the Griffin’s place as he had found out tonight. 

She cooked for them, washed their dishes, did their laundry, took care of their daughter when she came back from school, pleased every little whim the kid or her mother had. 

Bellamy used to go to work with her when he was younger and O was still a baby. 

They couldn’t leave her home alone so his mom strapped her to her chest or to Bellamy’s back and asked him to help her do her job, hand her this or give her that, carry that bucket of water or wipe the floors himself. 

He didn’t mind, he loved being with his mom and sister all the time. 

Aurora always told him that hard and honest work is worth it but the more he grew up and realized the toll this was taking on her, the more he came to resent the rich and their way of life.

He still helped her out after school, mostly doing stuff around the garden or heavy lifting or maintenance for the Lightbournes until his friend John Murphy who he knew from school, took him out to an underground fight and introduced him to Anya. 

He stopped going to Sanctum and instead started working for her. His mom knew something wasn’t right because he’s been coming home more and more late every night but no matter how much she prodded him about it and asked him to stop whatever he’s doing because it will get him killed like so many boys in their neighborhood, he didn’t listen.

The money he made with Anya were enough to pay the electricity bill, buy food and get her medicine for a few weeks. 

He didn’t care how wrong or bad it was to steal rich people’s cars. They had money, they’d buy a new one. His mom couldn’t survive without her medicine and his sister shouldn’t know hunger and cold.

He bursts through the door of the pharmacy and rushes to the cashier, asking for the pills his mom needs. Though the woman does give him a curious look she must be used to boys from their neighborhood coming in bloody and broken in here so she doesn’t comment on it as she pulls out the orange bottles.

“What about some bandages for that hand of yours?” she asks him and Bellamy having completely forgotten about the cut, takes a look down and sees it’s still bleeding so he shoves it in his pocket after handing her the money and snatching the white paper bag away.

“I got that. Thank you.’ he mumbles before bolting back outside.

He ends up having spent almost everything but still, with the last few bucks he has he buys some eggs and milk so he can make O breakfast.

When he finally makes it home, his mom is, as he suspected, already awake, moving around the kitchen. He tries to sneak out to his room, grateful that it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have school, then get up later when she’s already at work, to make O breakfast.

But Aurora’s faster than him, she hears him so she raises her voice.

“Bellamy Blake, where on earth have you-” but when she turns around and sees him in all his broken glory with his drenched clothes and his bloody face and hand, her mouth falls.

“What on earth happened to you?” she rushes to him and cups his face in her hands. 

He takes the opportunity to check on her-she’s very pale again and her breathing is too deep and rattly.

It made sense, she hadn’t taken her blood pressure medicine in weeks, she was growing more and more tired, struggling to breathe and having chest pain every night. 

He pulls away from her harshly and hands her the bag.

“Got you medicine.”

“Bellamy! Come here right now or help me god-” she scolds when she doesn’t take the bag from his hand and he has to drop it on the table. 

“I’m fine, mom, I just tripped over.” he lies and tries to head to his room but she grips his wrist and pulls him to her, once again cupping his bloody cut up cheek. “Where did you get money for this?” he doesn’t answer, instead they stare at each other’s faces for a bit and when he doesn’t speak up, she knows exactly what is going on here.

“Bellamy, you promised me you’ll stay away from that woman!” she means Anya, and Bellamy pulls away and shakes his head like a wet dog trying to get rid of his mom licking his face.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding and you look like hell. What the hell did she make you do this time?” she circles around when he tries to get away from her once again unsuccessfully. 

“Nothing.” he lies “Mom, please, just take the medicine.” she shakes her head.

“Bellamy, this isn’t a joke, you’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t stop!” she tries, gripping his arms but even that small effort seems to be a lot for her because she sways on her feet a moment too long and if he’s not there to catch her, she would’ve fallen.

“Mom!” he says panic rising in his voice and when she tries to stand up but her legs buckle under her and so she has to wrap his arms around her and carry her to the couch. 

The fact that he can do that in the state that he is himself makes his heart skip-she was growing weaker by the day.

He can remember her having heart problems since he was a young boy, way before Octavia was born and she had always waved her hand whenever she felt bad and promised him it’s not a big deal, but in the recent years and especially in the past few months, she had grown significantly worse. 

The doctor told them she needs to stop working so hard, had to take her medicine regularly and rest more but they couldn’t afford any of that. 

In result, she was in pain more often than not and she felt so weak most days that she couldn’t even get up from bed.

“I got you.” he promises when he puts her down and covers her with a blanket.

“I was supposed to go to work today.” she mumbles and tries to sit up “I need to-” his hand on her shoulder stops her.

“I’ll go. You just tell me what needs to be done.” this is something else that has been happening a lot lately. 

When she was too weak go to the Lightbourne’s he would, even on school days. She’d try to fight him on it, tell him he has to graduate but he wouldn’t listen. 

School was the last thing on his mind and both her and he knew that they couldn’t do without her pay check.

“Bell, no.”

“Mom, come on, just tell me.” he begs of her and she closes her eyes and sighs tiredly before she reaches to cup his cheek. 

He hates that she looks so much like death, that she’s so pale and her fingers are so cold they make him shiver. 

Tears gather at his eyes and the events of last night catch up on him and make him panic-what if Clarke and her dad called the police? 

What if any minute now someone knocked on their door and he got arrested? 

What would happen with his mom then? And his sister who was still asleep, unaware of everything that was happening in their lives?

“You’re such a good boy.” Aurora whispers, rubbing her thumb up and down his cheek and when a tear finally falls down, she brushes it away and picks his chin.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” she insists “You are.” she pulls him down and kisses his forehead and he throws himself in her embrace, needing to just be hugged. 

After everything that has happened, he just wants to be held, to allow himself this quiet moment of weakness before he goes back to carrying the world on his shoulders. 

He wraps his arms around her tired back and thinks how much he needs her here, how he won’t be able to do this without her and how he’d steal a thousand cars if he had to, just to make sure she was alright.

“Oh, Bell.” she senses the tears wetting her shirt and pulls him back, to look in his eyes and brush his wet curls away from his forehead “What’s wrong?”

Her worry brings him back to reality-she didn’t need this, she shouldn’t have to think about him and his stupid actions. 

She had to rest.

He brushes his face away with his dirty sweater and clenches his jaw, trying to compose himself as best as he could.

“I’m fine.” he says seriously “I’ll go shower and change and then I’ll leave for the Lightbourne’s. Are you sure you and O will be okay on your own?”

“Bellamy-” she tries to take his hand and pull him down next to her but he’s already standing up and getting ready to leave her. “Come on, talk to me.” he just shakes his head and leans down to give her one last kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll take care of us, I promise.” he whispers and he means it. 

Before Aurora can say anything back, he’s left for his room and by the time he’s out the door, she’s already asleep, so she never gets to hear him sneak out into the cold November morning.

When he arrives at the Lightbournes, he finds the place buzzing with too much excitement for an early Saturday. 

This would usually be the time where Josephine, the daughter, who was his age would be still sleeping after a Friday party she attended, her mom would be having tea with the members of one of the million clubs she took part in and the dad, Russel, would either be in his study, doing research or at work.

But when he gets there, Josephine’s already in the kitchen trying and failing to make herself some breakfast while her mom was bossing around the caterers for the morning brunch of her, as Bellamy correctly suspected, book club.

“Where’s your mother?” Mrs. Lightbourne asks when she sees him get in through the back door. 

He’s done his best to shower off all the blood and grime, change into more decent clothes, but when he took a glance of himself in one of the car windows on his way here, he realized he might actually appear to be worse than he was before. 

The lack of sleep and the numerous cuts on his face made him look like a ghost and though he’s changed the bandage on his hand and tighten it pretty well, it still hurt him to even open the door. 

His ribs protested with every movement and his ankle was quite swollen but he had to make do.

“She…she couldn’t make it today. I’ll do her work.” he announces feeling too small under Simone’s scrutinizing eyes.

“This has been happening far too often lately.” she remarks and he swallows hard “I know you’re good at what you do too, Bellamy, but I have employed your mother, not you and if she keeps skipping days I’ll have to let her go.”

“She’ll be here on Monday.” he promises and Simone tiredly drags her hand over her face before waving him off and handing him off the list of things that needed to be done today.

“You look like hell” Josephine says when her mom’s left the room and she’s sipping on a cocktail which Bellamy’s pretty sure had at least two fingers of vodka in it. 

There was mutual hatred between the two of them from the moment his mom was employed in the house. 

Josephine was cunning and cold and her favorite activity was making fun of others, especially those below her, like Bellamy. 

She terrorized him in ways only a few of the boys at school had but with them it was different, cause Bellamy could actually fight back. 

He could never deal with Josephine like that. 

The more she grew, the worse she got and though he was aware there was something traumatic that has happened in her childhood, he couldn’t give a damn about it-she was down right horrible. 

“Fuck off, Jo.” he curses as his eyes skim through the list. 

She might be his boss’ daughter but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back at least verbally. 

Josephine usually enjoyed riling him up and he heard her say something while he was buried in thought about how much he had to deal with, but mentally thanking the fact that he stopped his mom from coming here today. This would be too much for her.

“Anyway, I have my bio partner coming over so we can work on our project and as much as I hate her I’d really wish she didn’t see our help that looks like someone beat them to a bloody pulp.” he raises his head up and throws her his dirtiest look before she hops off the counter and drowns the rest of her drink.

“Scram, Blake.” she adds and he bawls his hand in a fist before heading to the underground floor.

He takes care of the laundry first, then moves up to their bedrooms to change the sheets, then cleans the bathrooms and goes back down to move the laundry from the washing machine to the drier. 

Once he’s done with that he gets onto the tasks outside-fixing the gutter on the west wall above Josephine’s room and gathering the leaves in the backyard.

The gutter fixing turns out to be a bit harder than he expects and while struggling with it, he reopens the wound on his hand and almost falls off the ladder from the intense pain.

But he doesn’t bother wrapping it up when he finally finishes off and heads to deal with the leaves.

Moving the rake intensifies the burning pain in his ribs so he stops in the middle of the bright autumn day to head back to the kitchen and grab himself some water.

He’s sweated through his shirt and his vision blurs again, he feels his heart trumping so loud in his ears that he has to lean on the back door before he makes it inside.

He doesn’t even register the voices in the kitchen as he makes it in, too buried in his own thoughts and trying hard to stay on his feet and not pass out in the most embarrassing way.

“If we go with the the insects first we might lose momentum, Clarke and I don’t think that will work with Mrs. Indra. You know how she likes consistency.”

He’s too out of it to even register the name that leaves Josephine’s lips and as he moves from the small hallway to the kitchen, he decides he’ll first head to the fridge and grab himself the coldest bottle of water he can find and maybe something sweet to boost his blood sugar. 

He hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, maybe that’s why he was so weak on his feet.

“I don’t think it will be wrong to start chronologically, Josephine, it is how the lesson plan follows and-”

He stops dead on his track when he sees her there.

Clarke Griffin sitting on the kitchen counter next to Josephine Lightbourne with text books spread open, pages and notebooks, colorful pens and highlighters covering half the place.

He swallows hard as he looks at her and grits his teeth trying to hold his ground. 

She could easily stand up and accuse him of trying to steal her car and assault her father, call the police, have the Lightbourne’s fire him and his mother. Get him convicted and send to juvie for months if not a year.

Clarke Griffin held his life in her hands and with one simple gesture, she could send him down a path, he’d never get to climb out of.

“Blake, I thought I told you to stay off the damn house.” Josephine’s voice feels distant, like she wasn’t really talking to him while he keeps his eyes on Clarke. 

“I’m sorry, he’s kind of dumb.” she apologizes to Clarke who just throws her a side glance before turning to him again “Go back to whatever you were doing, Blake.” she tries but he doesn’t move. 

He can’t. 

He’s so terrified of the situation, trying to decipher Clarke’s look and weather or not she might actually speak up but then she closes her mouth and just barely shakes her head.

He sighs relieved. Not sure what he did to earn her forgiveness or her kindness but decides that if there ever is a way to pay her back, he would. 

He owed her now.

“Sorry, Miss Lightbourne.” he apologizes and heads to the back yard once more.

He contemplates leaving the mansion but then what was the point. 

If Clarke wanted to, she could tell Simone and Russel what he had done, if she wished for, she could call the police, give his description, but she hadn’t and he has never been a coward in his life so he just resumes on his work.

An hour or so later, when the sun has suddenly hidden behind dark grey clouds and it started looking like it’s going to rain again, he hears the door behind him open and close with a thud.

He doesn’t turn around, deciding it’s just Simone who’s going to boss him around about where to gather the leaves or how to water her roses or some such bullshit.

“So…what exactly is your deal, _Bellamy Blake_?” this time he recognizes the voice and stops his work before he turns around leaning on his rake. 

She’s standing there in all her princessy glory-a nice brown coat covering her arms, a cute plaid button up underneath and one of those skinny ass jeans that were so short half your ankle was out in the open.

“Are you going to rob the Lightbourne’s too? Is this another one of your schemes to punish the rich?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head, realizing that he owes her as much as the truth.

“Actually, my mom has been working for them since I was ten years old.” that makes her eyes widen in surprise “I’ve been helping her out too.”

“And how does your mother feel knowing her son had a break and entering last night that ended up with him punching my father so hard he almost broke his nose?”

He stares down at his feet.

“She doesn’t know.” he admits “Look, Clarke, I am sorry for what I did…I was..scared that you’d call the cops on me and I couldn’t let that happen, not with my mom sick at home and my sister-” he shakes his head and when he looks up he’s taken another step forward “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I just…Please tell your father how sorry I am.”

Her eyes are still curious but the doubt disappears when she realizes he’s being sincere.

“I’ll…I will make up for it. I’ll fix your window and come to apologize to him.” she stares at him for a while more but then she sighs and gives him a slow nod clearly still thinking over his words.

“Can I ask something?” he shrugs clearly okay with it “Why were you trying to steal my car?” he blushes at that and rubs the back of his head with his bloody hand.

“I was…I was going to take it to this place…have it torn apart and sold in pieces. Use the money to get more medicine for my mom.”

“How much would you have gotten out of it?”

“Three hundred give or take.” he wants the world to swallow him whole “It’s an expensive car you got there.”

“Мy mom got it for my sixteen birthday.” he might be imagining it but there’s something different in her voice when she mentions her mom.

“Good choice, low on maintenance and great for the city.” he comments lamely realizing how stupid he must sound now, commenting on the qualities of the car belonging to a girl he almost stole from. 

“Thanks.” when he looks at her he realizes she’s not judging him for his words as much as he thought she would.

“What’s wrong with your mother?” she says after a minute and he looks at her so surprised that he isn’t sure he heard her right, but then she takes another step forward and he has to force himself to stay in place though he’s itching to pull away from her, not really sure why he’s afraid.

“She…uh…it’s her heart.” he says lamely, failing to remember all the hard medical terms the doctor has tried to explain to his thirteen year old self all those years ago ”She’s always been sick but it’s been getting worse lately.”

“I see.” Clarke says and pulls down her bag and takes one of her notebooks, scrambling something on e peace of paper she tears away and hands over to him.

“That’s my number. My mom’s a surgeon so if you ever need help with anything-” she shrugs and lets her hand hung mid air for a moment too long before finally he reaches out with his bloody hand and carefully tucks the piece of paper in his pocket.

“Can I ask something too?” he gathers the courage to speak up just as she is about to turn around and leave, but she stops and gives him a curious look “How come you didn’t call the cops on me even after…I hurt your dad?”

She shrugs and contemplates on her answer for a minute too long before she finally meets his eyes again.

“Dad really wanted us to but I don’t know-” she shrugs “There was just something in your eyes that told me you wanted to be there as much as we did. You didn’t want to steal, you just had to. I turned out to be right.”

He clears his throat as he grips the rake tighter and gives her one last grateful nod.

“Well thank you, princess.” she raises her eyebrow at the nickname and he gives her his signature smirk before she shakes her head at his stupidity and turns to leave. 

When she’s almost by the door she turns around.

“I’d take care of that cut if I was you, Blake.” she nods at his hand which he has completely forgotten about “See you around.”

Before he can remember to respond, she’s already inside,probably getting ready to say goodbye to Josephine and head for the main entrance.

“See you, princess.” his words get carried away by the wind and he stays there staring at the Lightbourne’s mansion a moment too long, before Simone stares at him from the window in the kitchen and he remembers to go back to his work.


	2. In the quiet night outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all so much for reading the first chapter. I guess I never mentioned that the progression is kind of slow just because I really wrote in detail which is my big flaw I guess. I hope you'll enjoy this one as well!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan.

A week later Clarke hears her phone buzzing in the middle of the night but she’s too tired from studying all night for her AP Bio class that she completely ignores it and rolls on the other side.

The buzzing doesn’t stop, though and on the fifth time, she reaches for the phone on the night stand and grabs it only to find an unknown number flashing on her screen.

She contemplates picking up but since it wasn’t the first time and this person was clearly trying to desperately reach her, she picks up.

“Hello?” there’s a relief sigh on the other side and a moment of silence as if whoever was on the other end was trying to gather their thoughts “Who is this?”

“Clarke?”

It takes her a minute to connect the voice to the person and then she’s sitting upright.

“Bellamy?”

“That’s me, princess.” it seems like he’s really struggling to catch his breath “I know it’s really late and you’re in bed but…I’m outside your house. Can you come out?”

She glances at the clock under the lamp as she reaches to turn it on and groans at the late hour.

“Let me get this clear, it’s one fucking am on a Wednesday night and you want me to come out and talk to you? The person who tried to steal my car and punched my dad in the face?”

He must realize the reality of the situation because he doesn’t answer right away, instead cursing quietly and obviously gathering the strength to respond.

His voice comes out weaker than before.

“It’s my mom.” he states and when she hears that she throws the blanket off her and swings her feet on the side of her king sized bed. “You said I can call you if-”

“I’m coming, give me a second.” she cuts him off and hangs up, frantically looking for her sneakers but managing to get just the slippers. 

She curses, throws her jacket over the white t-shirt she slept with and rushed down the stairs.

Thankfully her dad was working late and the maid had left long ago, so there’s no one to stop her or ask her what the hell she’s doing in going outside meeting some boy she barely knows in the middle of a cold November night.

She finds him just outside the metal gates, pacing nervously up and down, dressed in nothing but a sweater, still wearing those old sneakers that were barely holding it together. 

His feet must be soaking, it had rained earlier that evening and as she approaches him she realizes his hair is somewhat wet too.

He must’ve waited out here in the cold for at least twenty minutes before she picked up and she curses herself for not responding when she first heard it.

“What’s up?” she asks as she opens the gates and lets him in the driveway. His eyes are full of worry and tears and he’s shaking like a leaf. 

On the streetlamp light coming from the left she could see his lips had turned blue. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

“No, there’s no time” he pleads and she stops abruptly “Mom’s bad…really bad. She hasn’t left the bed in days. I gave her her medicine but it’s…I don’t think it’s working. She got really pale tonight, can’t breathe, when she tries to stand she falls in my arms. Clarke, I-”

“It’s okay.” she comes to stand closer before him and puts her hands on his arms “It’s going to be fine.”

“We don’t have money for the hospital and you said your mom was a doctor so I thought she could come check her out.” Clarke’s face falls at that and he must notice it because she takes a second too long to respond. 

Immediately he pulls away and shakes his head as if convincing himself of his own stupidity. 

“Or not…I. Forget about it, this was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, no, stop this!” damn him he’s fast, she has to rush to stand in his way just as he turns around to leave. “I want to help. I will” she promises and his face softens at that “But my mom’s out of town.”

“Oh…” the hopelessness in his voice returns and he clenches his jaw. “Okay, then I’ll figure something else-”

“However, I know someone else who can help.” his head moves at that in surprise “Jackson, my mom’s co-worker. He’s really cool and he wouldn’t mind coming to see her at home.”

“Really?” Clarke nods, giving him a small smile in reassurance “He lives just a few blocks down. We can go pick him up and go to your place.”

“My sister’s alone at home.” he whispers rubbing the back of his neck with guilt “She’s asleep but…I had to leave her when I saw mom’s not fine.” so he had to get back home and fast in case she woke up and found herself alone in a house with her sick mom, who was in a obviously really bad condition. 

It was clear it took him everything to leave them and come here tonight including the risk of coming back home empty handed and finding things worse than before.

“Okay so-” she pulls her phone out and hands it to him “Type the address, go home. I’ll get ready, pick Jackson and meet you there, alright?” he nods and she gives him one reassuring squeeze before she turns to get back inside.

He pulls her by the wrist suddenly and she faces his guilty expression, him swallowing hard and contemplating on what to say.

“Thank you, princess.” he whispers.

“You’re welcome. Now go home, it’s freezing.” he rushes down the driveway probably to get to the bus stop as fast as he can and she heads back inside, already dialing Jackson’s number.

She pushes the thought of her mom at the back of her mind. 

What she told Bellamy was true-Abby was out of town, but she had failed to mention, on purpose, the fact that she won’t be coming back any time soon.

Clarke shakes her head and decides to focus on Bellamy for the time being.

Jackson picks up right away, obviously just having finished his shift at the hospital, which she’s grateful for, cause she would’ve felt bad if she woke him up, knowing how hard he worked but certain he’d never say no to her no matter what.

On the way there he asks Clarke a bunch of questions about the condition of the patient but there’s really nothing much she could give him so they settle down on small talk, Jackson politely avoiding the subject of her mother and instead asking her about her AP classes and the colleges she’s applied to.

As they follow the address Bellamy has given them they enter an unfamiliar territory. 

She can’t remember the last time she set foot in Arkadia but it must’ve been when she was still a kid and her mom was making house visits to some of the families on this side of town. 

It looks worse than it was in her memories-though there were corner shops on every street, as well as a bunch of small grocery stores or pharmacies, there were also too many questionably guys roaming the streets, talking loudly, arguing or yelling. 

On their way there they were passed by three police cars, which were obviously chasing someone on the run and one ambulance.

Bellamy’s house is a secluded one, the last one on the row of a mostly quieter but also darker street. 

It’s a one store thing, the front yard was small but she did notice a bunch of toys and a pink bike on the lane. 

The roof seemed to have caved in on the left side but otherwise the place seemed more together than the houses surrounding it. 

She assumes Bellamy’s maintenance experience came in hand but she hates that he has to know this life while on the other side of town she slept in a king sized bed in a three story house behind metal walls and alarm systems.

There’s light coming from the left window and when they knock, Bellamy answers with a girl half asleep in his arms.

“Hey-” he greets them as he moves away to let them in. 

On the inside the place looks even smaller but somehow cosy-the walls are pained a nice milk yellow, there is a couch in the middle, an old TV opposite of it, something like a kitchen in the near right end where she could see a sink, a fridge, a bunch of cupboards and a table with three chairs. 

Still, pictures and copies of paintings covered the wall that led to the two doors-one must be a bedroom, Clarke though, the other maybe Bellamy’s room. 

“Thank you for coming.” he reaches to take Jackson’s hand when Clarke introduces them and the girl stirs in his arms.

“Bell-” she lifts her head up, she must be no older than ten, but she looked younger. 

Her hair was black just like Bellamy’s except it was straight and her bangs fell over her sleepy eyes which she rubbed at tiredly with her little fist. 

She was dressed in a blue and grey PJs that must’ve once been Bellamy’s and Clarke’s heart clenches at the sight. 

“What’s going on? Who are these people?”

“They’ll check on mom. Make sure her heart is all good, okay?” he explains rubbing his hand over her back and pulling the blanket he had tossed over her, tighter around her neck.

“Here, follow me.” he asks of them and the girl leans her cheek back on his shoulder but keeps her eyes trailed on Clarke, studying her curiously. 

“You look like a princess.” she whispers and Clarke smiles when she reaches to touch her nose with her finger and smile.

“That’s what your brother calls me too.” the kid smiles “My name’s Clarke.”

“That’s not a girl’s name.” she moves up suddenly feeling more awake than before when they stop at their mom’s room. 

While they talk Bellamy catches up Jackson on his mom’s condition, explains more about her disease and how fast she’s been feeling lately. 

Clarke only half listens as she talks to his sister, hoping to distract the kid from the adult talks.

“Are you superman?” Clarke chuckles at that.

“I get asked that a lot but…No, I’m not.” the girl contemplates on her answer and then nods.

“That’s good. Cause he sucks.”

“Octavia.” Bellamy catches that and scolds her mildly but his arm never stops caressing her back. “Manners, okay?” Clarke watches him kiss the top of her head and his sister, though squirming underneath him, smiles, enjoying his affection.

“Octavia?” Clarke says with a teasing smile “That’s a cool name.”

“Not as cool as Clarke!” she huffs dramatically “Blame my brother for it.” Clarke raises an eyebrow but he just shakes his head trying to say it will be a subject for another day and finally grabs the door handle and carefully opens up to lead them in.

“Mom?” he says “The doctor I told you about is here.” Clarke follows him in to find a woman in her forties lying in the middle of a king sized bed, covered with a bunch of blankets. 

Her face was pale and she obviously struggled to breathe but she somehow manages to open her eyes when she hears her son’s voice. 

The room is warmer than the other one and she notices the heater in the corner, probably the only one around that Bellamy must’ve brought in here to keep his mom safe. 

Still, it wasn’t enough to make it comfortable but it was the best he must’ve been able to do.

Jackson sits by her side and introduces himself, asking her if it’s okay to check her up to which she nods slowly. When Clarke and Bellamy try to leave, Jackson looks at her.

“Clarke, you should stay and help me out in case we need to move her around, okay?” she nods and though she sees Bellamy’s worriedly hovering at the door, wondering if he should stay too or leave, she gives him one last reassuring look and he nods, before closing the door with the excuse he’ll make them some tea.

Even when he’s not in the room, Clarke can still feel Bellamy’s presence all around. 

The way he’s carefully tucked his mother in, how her placed all the pills on the night stand and made sure she had at least two glasses of water. 

The empty tea cups and the trays still filled with food that his mom never touched. The pillows he had put to support her, the extra sweater he had covered her shoulders with.

Clarke sees a whole new side of Bellamy Blake and it makes her wonder who exactly is this boy. 

A thief who stole cars to sell them for money or a kid that simply got himself in trouble to help his mom who he clearly loved so much that he’d call the last person he could think of desperate for help.

He’s right that Aurora’s condition is quite serious, though. 

At first she’s not very responsive, very tired and sleepy and when Jackson listens to her heart and lungs, takes in her BP and pulse, he’s clearly not happy. 

He talks to her all the time though and after giving her two shots of some medicine, her breathing eases out a bit and her eyes gain the recognition they were lacking before.

That’s when Jackson asks her all about her medical history. 

Had she always been sick? Yes, it was genetic, but she found out about it when she gave birth to Bellamy. When was the last time she was in a hospital, getting checked up and tested? 

The answer makes Clarke’s heart clench and Jackson grit his teeth-a year, they didn’t have money for any of the hospital visits and the doctors often needed her to stay at least over night for observation. 

The next best thing she could do is have Bellamy come with her to her GP or Urgent Care if it got too bad but this time, she didn’t even have the strength to get dressed and was out of it so much she mostly slept.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do-” Jackson explains “You’ll come by the hospital tomorrow and we’ll-”

“We can’t afford that.” Clarke turns her head only to find Bellamy leaning on the door frame, obviously having put his sister back to bed and not being able to wait around for them to come out any longer. 

He’s crossed his arms over his chest but he looked too tired to be able to build all his serious cold walls around. 

Clarke could see it in his eyes-his mom might be on the brink of passing out but so was he and she briefly wonders how long was it since he got a decent good night sleep. 

“Yes, you’ve said that already but…there are ways.” Jackson explains “We have a free clinic dealing with minor cases in our west wing. I won’t be officially admitting her as a patient-we’ll just run some tests, have some x-rays, I’ll use the hospital lab for the results and prescribe any medicine myself.” 

Bellamy stands straighter in his place and Clarke notices his cheeks blush-he was clearly uncomfortable taking charity but he didn’t have a choice this time.

“I’ll destroy any paper work from the hospital and leave only the documents for the clinic.”

“And if she has to stay overnight?” he asks again, clearly thinking two moves ahead of them, which simultaneously makes Clarke admire him and feel sad for if he knew so much about all that, he must’ve lived it at least a few times by now and gotten used to it.

“How will you excuse a heart disease in a free clinic that deals with cuts and bruises?”

“I’ll sign it up as such” Jackson shrugs “Say she has a strong headache or fell down, got a concussion so I kept her to make sure she’s fine.”

“What happens if they catch you?”

“They won’t.”

“What if they do.”

“Then we’ll call my mom.” Clarke interrupts and his head snaps to hers “She’ll know what to do.” Bellamy sighs and rubs his forehead. 

Clarke notices Aurora’s look on her. She clearly had many questions about this whole thing and she did try to ask them but the best thing Clarke could do is tell her she was a friend of Bellamy’s from school and brush the rest off, hoping she’d be too tired to interrogate her right now. 

Clarke gets it though-if a teenage girl brought in a doctor to examine her in the middle of the night in the worst neighborhood in town, she’d have questions too.

“I’m not sure about this, princess.” Bellamy states after a minute and brings her back from her thoughts.

“Bellamy, it will be fine.” his mother intervenes and he meets her eyes before she turns her head to Jackson “Excuse my son, doctor, he worries too much.”

“Mom I-” he tries to fight her but one look from her makes him deflate. 

Clarke has to smile at Bellamy being cut off by his mom in the both sweetest and most ridiculous way.

“It’s okay for him to worry, your condition is serious. We need to get those tests, maybe adjust or even change your medicine. Your blood pressure is too low and your heart’s out of rhythm.”

“What else can we do to help?” Bellamy asks, going back to his protective mode right away.

“She needs rest. Lots of it.” Jackson glances between the two of them “Now Bellamy told me you work as a maid for the Lightbournes?” Aurora nods at that briefly squeezing her eyes as if to gather herself.

“And that it’s long hours.” Bellamy hmms confirming that “Well if I were you I’d take time off.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, doctor.” Aurora says seriously and Bellamy takes a step forward getting ready to intervene. 

Clarke notices he’s still heavily leaning on his left side, that he winces when he takes in a deeper breath and his hand was wrapped in such a dirty gauze that she could bet her head, it was the same one she last saw on him back at Josephine’s place.

“We’ll make it work, mom.” he says and she tries to sit up and fight him but her face twists in a painful grimace and her hand falls over her chest. 

Jackson gently pushes her down and scolds her to get rest and sleep just when Bellamy’s come to Clarke’s side and leans over his mom worriedly, making sure she’s fine. 

She reaches to touch his hand in reassurance and he squeezes it so hard, Clarke thinks it must be almost painful. 

“Would you do me a favor and check on my stubborn boy?” she turns her head to Jackson, eyes already drooping “He’s hurt too, he’s just thinks he’s hiding it well.”

“I’m fine.” he cuts his mom off and stands up before Jackson can say something and nods towards the door, suggesting they finally leave Aurora to get some sleep. 

“You should rest, mom. I’ll show you guys off.” he tells Clarke as he stands up and before Aurora can protest some more they are out in the living room and he’s closing the door behind them.

Jackson’s pulling on his jacket and giving him a once over.

“You know if you really need help with something else, I can take a look.” he nods at his hand “That seems quite dirty.”

“It’s just a cut, I’m okay.” Clarke smiles when he pulls away because she’s read his behavior the correct way- _Bellamy Blake was afraid of doctors._

She had noticed it back at their place when she was trying to patch him up, he was shivering the entire time, itching to pull away but she had given it out to his fear of leaving the crime scene in handcuffs. 

Now, she could actually see the fear in his eyes and his refusal to meet Jackson in the eye now that the matter of discussion was no longer his mother’s condition.

“I, uh…thank you for coming in.” he’s clearly very uncomfortable “We’ll pay you back as soon as we can.”

“Don’t mention that.” Jackson cuts him off seriously and Bellamy looks up surprised at that “I didn’t become a doctor for the money.” then he glances at her “I’d help a friend of Clarke’s anytime.”

“Thank you.” there go the walls that he loves building up, she could notice it even in the way he tried to stand taller.

“But we don’t take charity. I’ll pay you back.” his voice comes out colder than Clarke’s ever heard before and she furrows her eyebrows at his behavior but Jackson doesn’t seem offended by it.

“Alright. Well I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” he gives him a small smile and heads for the door but when Clarke doesn’t leave he turns around giving her a questioning look. 

“I’ll be there in a sec.” she promises and he smiles curiously but keeps his thoughts to himself as he heads outside.

Once alone, they stand there in awkward silence for a moment too long. 

Bellamy’s still stand-offish and she wants to say something comforting, promise him that things will be alright but his head is obviously somewhere else.

“I’m sorry for bothering you tonight, princess.”

“Bellamy, there’s nothing to apologize for.” she tries to give him a soft smile but he won’t look at her so she reaches to squeeze his elbow and force his eyes to meet hers.

“It’s okay. Really.”

But he’s off, way too off. The glimpse of the caring boy she saw just ten minutes ago felt like a dream to her. Here he stood stubborn and ashamed and she knew that no matter what she said to him, it won’t have any effect.

So instead she makes a joke.

“You’re afraid of doctors aren’t you?” he doesn’t expect her saying that because he looks surprised and blushes.

“Am not.” he sounds like his sister and she has to stifle a laugh.

“Damn right you are.” he stares back at his shoes which is the perfect moment for her to grab his hand by the wrist and pull it up, removing the dirty gauze faster than he can say his name. 

She scoffs at the sight of it and scrunches up her nose.

“What the hell are you doing?” he tries to pull away but her grip is stronger and when she prods the red fresh around the cut he almost yelps. “Ouch! Stop it!”

“Don’t be a baby.” she scolds and pulls him closer to the meager light to get a better look “This is already infected-there’s yellow in it and it smells.”

“It’s fine.” she shakes her head and starts unwrapping it to reveal it in its full glory “Clarke, seriously!”

“Do you have alcohol?”

“I’m-”

“Please say it again, I haven’t heard how fine you are in the last five seconds. If you skip it, your big puffy male bravado might actually burst” she pokes at his chest and he looks at her completely stunned as she drags him to the kitchen sink, pulls his sleeve up and turns the water on only to drag it under.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking.” she’s once again entirely in her element not caring for his stupid behavior knowing that if he left it like this, it would get worse “Alcohol?” she asks and he nods at the cupboard on the left where she finds a half full bottle of whiskey. 

Once she’s cleaned it up with soap she pours the alcohol over and he grips the edge of the sink with his good hand so hard, his knuckles go white.

“You know you could get sepsis.”

“Please leave the anatomy lesson for your friend Josephine.” he mumbles between his teeth.

“Do you have any clean bandages in this house?” she doesn’t pay any attention to his words before he nods to another cupboard this time on the right. 

She has to circle him, her chest brushing his back and she might be imagining it but she feels him suck in his breath. 

She finds them with ease and cleans up the wound before wrapping it up in a fresh bandage. 

“And trust me I want to go to the Lightbournes as much as you do but Josephine and I were paired up for this project.”

“That must be annoying.” he comments and she feels the walls crumble. 

When she looks up his face is still twisted in pain but there’s a half smile there too so she tries really hard not to blush at his playful gaze. 

Tries and fails dramatically. 

“Where do you go to school?” she asks desperate to find out more about him.

“Arkadia High.” it was the only one in this neighborhood “Otherwise known for its underfunded programs, lack of school books or any decent teachers at all, which is why I barely go anymore.”

“Aren’t you a senior? You have just this one year left.” he waves his good hand off.

“I don’t plan to get any fancy education like yours truly after so what’s the point really? Plus, I can educate myself better than these morons.”

“A degree is important,though.”

“You don’t say, princess.” he mocks at her and she tightens the bandage a bit too much just to make him groan for using that stupid nickname again “A mechanic doesn’t need a degree.” she raises her eyebrow in curiosity and he shrugs “I’m good at fixing cars.”

“And stealing them, obviously.” he smiles at that “My dad would disagree with you, though, he started off as a mechanic and then became an engineer.”

“Your father and I have very different lives.” she nods solemnly not sure what she could say to that as she finishes up her work and ties the bandage in a nice knot which hopefully he won’t fuck up in just an hour “What about you, princess?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to be?”

“Oh…” she shrugs “My mom really wants me to be a doctor but I’m not sure about it all.” she puts the things she took away back to their rightful cupboards as he turns around and leans on the counter. 

She actually gets to look at him now, in all his screwed up but still beautiful glory-his hair was dark and curly, not too long or short which gave him the bad boy image, underneath all the cuts on his face she could also see freckles and despite his figure being quite slim his chest and arms were broad and strong probably because of all the manual work he had to do. 

His eyes are a deep shade of brown and his lips were small but full.

“Enjoying the view, princess?”she coughs in embarrassment and pulls away, hoping the darkness of the room could hide her blush.

“You flatter yourself, Blake.” she slaps his chest and he huffs out a small laugh mindful of his sister and his mom sleeping “Anyway, if I don’t become a doctor, who’d ever patch your sorry ass since you are so afraaaaid of everyone else but me” she mocks and he scoffs at her when she turns around and heads for the door. 

Poor Jackson must’ve already fallen asleep in the car and she almost felt bad but she just had to make sure Bellamy’s fine. 

Her dad called it her hero complex-the need to save everyone, help people.

“I’m not afraid…I just don’t like them.” he says when he takes the jacket off the couch before she can and helps her put it on. 

No one has ever done that for her except her dad, surely none of the stupid rich boys her mom always tried to set her up with but she hides her surprise well as he sends her off.

“Thank you once again for everything.” 

“You’re welcome. I hope your mom gets better.” he nods sadly at that “And stay off any hard physical work before your hand heals.” he shakes his head at that “I mean it, Bellamy, this is no joke. Clean it at least twice a day until it starts closing off.”

“Fine, fine.” she doesn’t actually thinks he’ll keep his promise but they still smirk at each other.

“I guess I’ll…see you around then?” she can’t figure out why she feels so stupidly shy in that moment. 

Here she was standing in the house of a boy who almost stole her car and hurt her dad. 

He might be a caring son but he was still dangerous and yet she was smiling at him as if he’d hung the moon for her.

“I still have to come fix your window and apologize to your dad.” he says seriously and she sees him shiver when he steps on the front porch without a jacket, still in that damn old sweater that was too big for him. 

“He’ll be home this weekend so-”

“In that case I’ll see you on Saturday.”

She smiles before she gives him one last quiet nod and heads for the car. He doesn’t come inside until they leave, making sure they drive away safely.

He’s still smiling when he goes back to his mom’s room to turn off the lights only to find her awake and trying to get to the cup of water on the night stand. 

He quickly rushes to her and helps her take a few sips before she sinks back in the bed.

“I take a sip of water on my own, Bellamy.” he waves his hand off and sits back on the edge, still worryingly taking her in. 

She still seemed pale but whatever the doctor gave her must’ve worked a bit as it seemed easier for her to breathe.

“I’ll heat up some soup for you to have-”

“No.” she cuts him off and he purses his lips angrily “It’s late and I’m not hungry. Where’s your sister?”

“Asleep in my room.”

“Bring her in, you guys will sleep here tonight.”

“Mom-” the tip of his ears go red, feeling too old to be sleeping in one bed with his mom but at the same time knowing she was right-it was really cold in his room. 

Usually, he’d spoon Octavia and toss at least three blankets over them to make sure she’s warm enough but he wasn’t sure it’d be enough tonight. 

Not with the way the weather outside had taken a really bad turn for the worse and the roof has sunk low and let air through just above his room. 

He cursed himself for not fixing it when it was still summer but he had taken on two jobs at the time and came home so tired he was ready to pass out on his feet.

That was before Anya of course.

“It’s warmer and I don’t want her or you getting sick, come on.” she urges him and he knows he won’t be able to fight her on it so with a sigh he heads to his sister’s room and brings a still somehow asleep Octavia in. 

His mom moves the covers up as he carefully places her on her right side before circling around to the left and taking off his broken shoes which he had to duck tape this morning before leaving in the rain outside.

His mom obviously pays attention to that and when he slips under the covers with this back to her, refusing to let her push him closer to herself like she did his sister, because he was no longer a kid, she whispers.

“We need to get you new shoes.”

“They’re fine, mom.” he says tiredly, dipping his face in the pillow and feeling his eyes close. He hasn’t had any decent sleep since the night he broke in at Clarke’s garage.

“How come you know this girl?” he knew the question was inevitable but he hoped she’d be too tired to prod him about it tonight.

“She told you-from school”

“Don’t try to throw dust in my eyes, Bellamy Blake, this girl is not from around.” he sighs and pulls the blanket up over his head trying to escape his mom’s questions, but she grabs it and pulls it down to his ear so she’s certain he can hear her nice and well.

“Is she from Sanctum?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet her?”

“Oh my god, mom, please, I’m tired.”

“You weren’t tired two minutes ago, now answer.” he just waves his hand in the air, doesn’t say anything but keeps groaning. 

His mom’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder though. 

“Please, be honest, Bellamy.”

He can’t tell her the truth. He can’t face his mom and admit that he tried to steal a girl’s car but got caught by her father and then instead of turning him in they tried to help him except he paid them back by running away.

“It wasn’t the most pleasant of circumstances, was it?” she says again and he shrugs.

“Does it matter?” his voice is tired, he honestly just wants to sleep.

“You bring a girl and a doctor home out of nowhere in the middle of the night. I think it’s fair that I want to know how this came to be.”

“Quite honestly mom, I don’t know. She offered me help if I needed it so I just took her up on it.” he’s not lying about that and his mom can sense it so she just hums thoughtfully and pulls the blanket up his back. 

“I told them we’ll pay them back so don’t worry about that.” he adds the thought that’s been bothering him all night even before he left for the Griffins.

Swallowing your pride and asking for help form someone above you took so much out of him but the thought that he couldn’t give anything back, that the money in his pocket would be enough to buy them the tickets for the bus ride to the hospital and nothing else, tortured him, kept him up at night in ways only his mom could understand. 

But unlike him, she had hope, she always somehow miraculously made ends meet until she started getting worse. 

It was just at the time he was old enough to start working so he did. 

He was waiting tables at fourteen, at fifteen did odd jobs like construction and repairs, mowing lawns or cleaning gutters-he could do it all. 

When he was sixteen his friend from school Raven asked him if he was interested in being a mechanic and that was where he learned everything he could about cars.

He was a fast learner, patient and good with his hands but no matter how hard he worked, no many how hours or how many jobs he took on, it never seemed to be enough.

There was never enough food, hot water was sparse, electricity has been cut off more often than not, his sister didn’t have enough school supplies, wore his old clothes to classes only to have kids mocking her.

_It broke his heart._

It’s why he followed Murphy that night he suggested he introduced her to Anya. 

Despite it all he told himself, being a criminal was worth it if it provided enough for Octavia and his mom. They needed to have a better life, or at least a decent one. 

He could deal with taking a few bruises or his guilty conscious for stealing cars that kept him awake at night.

“I’ll talk to the Lightbournes” his mom’s voice brings him back to reality. “Explain the situation, ask them for a short leave.”

“No. You’re not going back there.”

“Bellamy,we need-”

“No. That’s it” he rolls on his back and looks at her tired pale face “You heard the doctor, no more hard work. When you recover, we can figure something else out. Maybe you can pick back on your sewing, I can ask around if someone’s hiring.”

“And what will we do until then?”

“I’ll work.” he says determined.

“You need to go to school.” she whispers, voice cold. Thankfully Octavia slept like the dead so there was no chance of waking her but Bellamy still didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m done with that.” he rolls over again, giving her his back because he knows this one will be a tougher conversation.

“And what will you do? Run errands for Anya? Get yourself shot while stealing something or trying to rob a store!” she sits up in bed and grabs his shoulder, pulling him so she’s facing him again.

“I raised you better than that!”

Because he doesn’t want to give her any more cause for worrying, knowing it will make her condition worse, he decides on another tactic, reaching out to cover her hand with his.

“I’ll get a job. Ask the Lightbournes to keep me around for the weekends.” she deflates at that a bit but still looks really upset “It’ll be fine.”

“So you’ll work two jobs and drop out? That’s your plan, Bellamy?”

“What do you want from me, mom?” he asks getting angry now.”I’m doing the best that I can.”

“I don’t want you to have to!”

“Well you need to learn how to live with it because it’s what we got!” he hates this. 

Hates fighting with his mom. He loves her so much and he can’t bear seeing her in pain most of all when he’s the reason for it. She opens her mouth to argue with him but he just cuts her off. 

“Stop it. I’ve decided and you can’t do anything about it.”

He hates that he raised his voice at her like that and sees that though she’s angry she’s also hurt, so he sighs rolls over so that his face is pressed to her side and looks at her.

“Mom, it will be fine. Just let me take care of it, okay?” she cups his cheek and shakes her head.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You and your sister are the kids and I’m the parent, not the other way around.”

“I’m almost eighteen, I’m an adult.” he pouts and she smiles at him.

“You’ll always be my sweet boy.” she leans down and kisses his forehead and he smiles briefly before he pretends to be too big about it, huff a bit and bury himself under the blanket like he loves to. 

When his eyes start drooping too much, she tells him to get rest and once he’s quietly snoring next to her she lets herself relax into the pillows, thinking how her heart may be too weak to push blood through her body and keep her alive, but having her kids here on both her sides was enough to help her last another day.


	3. Fear of moments stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so this one is quite the emotional chapter and kind of sets things into motion. I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can also find me @jasperjoordan on Tumblr.

Three days later, when Bellamy’s helping his mom from the bedroom to the couch in the living room and his sister is doing her homework on the coffee table there’s a knock on the door. 

He could guess by the sound of it who it was so he swallowed hard and prepared himself for what he was expecting for a while now.

“Who could it be?” Aurora asks him when he covers her with the blanket and shushes her to rest, that he’s got it covered. 

She spent two days in Jackson’s free clinic since he couldn’t prolong her stay longer without raising suspicion but even that was more than any of them expected. 

The doctor ran all tests and changed her medication and though she was still very weak and needed to take it easy for the next couple of months at least, Bellamy was relieved when he picked her up last night and realized some of the color has returned to her face. 

Her breathing, though still labored was much better but she struggled to walk too much or stay upright at least for now. 

Jackson explained the medicine needs some time to kick in and she needs to eat well and get strong before she even thinks about working again. 

Short walks but with help were welcomed but nothing too stertorous, which because Aurora was as stubborn as Bellamy was, made everything much harder. 

She was itching to cook for them, do the laundry and when he went to the store and came back with whatever meager groceries he could buy, he found her changing the sheets which resulted in a fight between them.

Still, what kept Bellamy up at night wasn’t the fact that she refused to listen to him and fought him on every little thing. 

It was the conversation he overheard between her and Jackson last night.

He came to the hospital earlier, bringing her flowers and a bunch of clothes she could change into when he stopped abruptly upon finding the door of her room ajar and he probably wouldn’t have stopped and think twice before entering if he hadn’t caught his mom’s worried voice.

“So long term, what does it mean, doctor?” he hears Jackson sigh and probably take a step forward, sitting on the bed, judging by the sound of the sheets moving.

“We don’t need to discuss this right now, Mrs. Blake.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, for me, but there’s no point in dodging the bullet. My father died at fifty one by a heart attack, I know how this disease works.”

“There are better treatments now and if you listen to what I say and make sure you rest enough things will make better.” Jackson keeps the optimistic tone of the conversation but even Bellamy feels his voice falter a bit “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you get better.”

“Doctor,please…” his mom sounds like she’s trying really hard not to break but when she speaks her voice breaks a bit “I have to know.” Jackson sighs and though Bellamy has known him for just a few days, he can imagine him running his hand down his face tiredly-a gesture he’s seen him do at least fifty times while dealing with just his mom alone. 

“I know it’s bad, I am weaker now than I was last year.”

“That’s because you haven’t been taking your medications, hadn’t been to regular check ups, hadn’t have a healthy way of life for someone in your condition.”

A healthy way of life, Bellamy though squeezing his eyes shut. 

He wasn’t wrong-his mom worked ten hours a day sometimes, coming home beaten and barely standing on her feet, going to the Lightbournes house six times a week and taking care of him and his sister on the seventh. 

She never actually stopped. The only time she was resting was at night and she never got more than six hours of sleep.

“It’s true that you have deteriorated and fast.” Jackson keeps on and Bellamy has to lean on the wall as not to fall. 

He knew his mom was bad but hearing it out like this shook him harder than he expected.

“If Bellamy hadn’t brought me to you I…I can’t say what would’ve happened.” Aurora sucks in a breath at that and it’s so sharp that Bellamy hears it.

“As I said, we’re trying a new treatment and when you go home I’ll still come by and check on you, keep up on your progress.” Jackson goes back to giving her hope.

”It would help if you could actually stay in a hospital for longer than a few days but I understand why this isn’t possible for you.” his mom hums in agreement and for a moment too long they remain in silence.

“It’s how life is, I suppose.” his mom finally says “Or at least ours.” 

Bellamy didn’t realize when the tears started coming down his cheeks or how he ended up curled up on the floor, brushing them away angrily with the dirty sleeve of his sweater. 

He had sold his jacket a few days ago to this dude in the neighborhood for five dollars so he could buy Octavia breakfast but he didn’t mind and when his mom asked why he’s going around in the rainy weather with nothing on he had come up with a stupid lie about forgetting it somewhere in the park.

“I hate bringing this up now but as a doctor I have to ask” Jackson speaks up again after a while “You do know this is a genetic disease. I’d advise you to test your children.”

“We already did that two years ago.” Aurora explains and Bellamy’s heart trumps so hard in his ears that he needs to stand up and leave but he feels like all he can do is sink lower and lower to the floor.

He already knows what his mom’s answer would be so he just covers his head with his hands and drowns the rest of the world. 

He somehow manages to get up and go to the bathroom before Jackson leaves her room so he gives himself fifteen minutes to get his shit together before he goes to his mom.

The insistent knocks on the door now bring him back to reality and he shakes his head trying to brush all the memories of his mom lying in a hospital bed, away.

He’s not surprised when he finds Murphy on the other side of the door, smiling at him in all his broken fucked up glory and nodding for him to step out.

“Long time no see, Blake.” he says instead of greeting and shoves his hands in his jean’s pockets.

Murphy has been a friend of his since he was a freshman. 

They bonded over their fucked up families and always getting into fights at school-Murphy’s mom was a dead beat drunk, his dad had passed away years ago from a stroke so he was mostly on his own, fending for himself or hanging out in his girlfriend Emori’s place most of the nights. 

He often joked he had it better than Bellamy-at least he wasn’t responsible for someone else and Bellamy really thought that some nights he stole for the thrill of it, got in trouble just because he could but then also he refused to have a real job, he wouldn’t even try for something regular like a waiter or a mechanic. 

He kept insisting he’s refusing to conform to the capitalistic norms of our every day lives but Bellamy knew deep down he just loved the thrill of getting in trouble.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy cuts to the chase and leads him down the lane and towards the street, refusing to let his mom overhearing any of their conversation. 

She was never a Murphy fan and whenever he came by she gave him a dirty look and begged Bellamy to stay away from him before he gets him into any trouble.

“Anya wants to talk to us.” Murphy spills when they are far enough from the house and taking a turn to the left. “She’s not happy your last bust went south and you disappeared for over a week.”

“My mom’s been sick.” he explains and Murphy waves his hand dismissively well aware of that but knowing it won’t matter to Anya or any one of her hounds “You were supposed to be there with me you know?”

“I do.” he doesn’t sound guilty but he does look away as he grabs his elbow and pushes him to the right. 

Bellamy knows where they’re headed. “Grounders” is just three streets down.

“So what the hell happened?” Bellamy shoves his elbow in his ribs and Murphy pushes him away in a playful manner.

“Something came up.”

“Thank you for the detailed explanation, Murphy.” Bellamy scoffs as he follows him into another familiar turn. 

Murphy pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers him one instead of apology-it has always been their way of dealing with their problems-smoking, running away or getting drunk. 

On some occasions it was all three, though Bellamy couldn’t afford drowning himself in alcohol unless he wanted to piss his mom anymore than she already was for him hanging with Murphy in the first place.

Bellamy takes him up on his offer and asks Murphy for a light. 

He didn’t realize how much he could use this-smoking helped his anxious self ease at least for a moment as brief as it was.

“She pissed?” Bellamy asks taking in a drag of his cigarette as they make another turn towards a darker but much more crowded area. 

Many people worked for Anya, mostly kids like themselves, some even younger. 

She masked her dirty business with the boxing club she owned where kids from all ages trained, got help and even a place to sleep. 

It was more of a community center of sorts, at least on the outside but Bellamy and Murphy knew better-anyone involved with Anya had to do something in exchange for the things she gave them. 

If you were a kid sleeping there, you had to train and participate in her underground fights, if you were like Murphy and Bellamy-you stole but she only gave you less than half of it. 

If you were like Dax, the kid from Bellamy’s History class, you distributed drugs. 

There was a system, a hierarchy, it was a small empire and though Bellamy knew Anya had a boss and that boss was pulling his strings from a few towns over, it didn’t make the situation any less complicated or quite honestly scary sometimes.

“You know her-” Murphy says when they make the last turn and face a tall rid brick building with a big sign made with graffiti made in big fancy letters reading “Grounders” 

“She’s permanently pissed off.”

Before they make their way inside Murphy stops in his way.

“You’re not chickening out, right? We’re still doing this shit?”

“I’m fine, Murphy.” Bellamy tries to push him off and get to the door but his friends stops him again.

“I need to know you’re with me.”

“I thought I was the dramatic one?” Bellamy scoffs raising an eyebrow and Murphy furrows his eyebrows and slowly shakes his head suggesting he’s not taking any of his bullshit .

“I’m with you, you ass. When have I not been?”

Murphy sighs, clearly satisfied and opens the door for him.

They make it inside a dusty dimply lighted gym with two big rings and a bunch of mats spread everywhere. 

About twenty kids were already sparring, hitting on the punching bags or working out together. 

Indra-one of the instructors who had also taught Bellamy in the past few months, throws them a knowing glance.

“I haven’t seen your lazy butt around here in a while, Blake!” she scolds in between ordering the fourteen-fifteen year old kids around “You better get your shit back together if you’re gonna fight.”

“I’ll let you know, Indra!” Bellamy yells back as they move around jogging kids and head to the black door in the right left corner. 

The two gorillas standing outside-Anya’s personal guards-are about to shush them away when Murphy says they have a meeting that the boss herself requested but even that’s not enough and only after one of them-Bellamy thinks his name was Otan, checks with her, are they finally let in.

They find her behind her desk, a cigarette in one hand, a glass of bourbon on the right, fiddling with paper work and barely glancing at them when they make it inside.

The smell of the smoke alone makes Bellamy itch that Murphy could give him another cigarette to calm down his fucked up self but he simply clears his throat after a few minutes of silence in which Anya mumbles numbers under her nose and shoves a few folders away. 

If anyone from the outside came to meet her,they’d think she’s a respectable business owner, carefully going through her books. 

To Bellamy and Murphy she was an underground shady figure who ruined kids’ lives and held them so hard in her grip, they couldn’t let go, pressed by life and circumstances.

“Blake, your last assignment was a total failure.” she spills out and finally leans back on her chair, taking a drag from her cigarette. He simply nods at that,not sure what he’s supposed to answer 

“Did they catch you?”

“No, there was an alarm system so I ran away.” he lies and Murphy throws him a curious look but hides it away quickly before Anya could notice.

“Yet you fail to show your face for a week and I have to get this one to fetch you to me” she points at Murphy who though trying to play it completely cool, stiffens next to Bellamy “What’s with that?”

“My mom’s been sick.”

Anya stands up and circles around the desk, coming in closer and taking him in. 

He still looks like shit and she can see it clear as day. He was so pathetic that he was shivering from the cold weather-turned out facing the November days without a jacket wasn’t as easy as he thought it’d be.

“Or maybe something else happened.” she blows the smoke from her cigarette in his face and he has to grip his hands together behind his back to keep himself from flinching.

“You got caught by the police, they pressured you to talk and made you promise to cooperate.”

Bellamy fake laughs at that. He knew well enough Anya had connections in the police, she paid one if not two officers off. If something was wrong with one of the kids working for her, she’d be the first to know but she still likes toying with him.

“You know that’s not true.” he meets in her eyes and manages to stay strong under her questioning look. 

She seems to be satisfied with his bravery because she finally pulls away and nods.

“Either way-” she puts off her cigarette and takes reaches for the glass behind her, taking a sip from her whiskey “You owe me-” finally she turns at Murphy too “And don’t think I don’t know you weren’t there with him at all.”

“I had an emergency”

“Right.” Anya gives them a fake laugh before she goes back to her seat and crosses her legs. “I need you two to make another hit.”

Bellamy shivers at that and not from the cold but hopes she can’t see it.

“I was thinking maybe I could fight for you again instead.”

“You’re not paid to think, Blake.” she cuts him off as she opens the cabinet on the left of her desk and brings out another glass pouring some alcohol in it.

“Get a drink, your ass is freezing.” she hands him the glass and he doesn’t even think about saying no to her about that one but he’s actually grateful when he gets a sip, feeling the warmth spread through him as if he was taking a hot shower.

“What do you want us to do?” Murphy asks next enviously eyeing the glass in Bellamy’s hand, probably being offended that he wasn’t offered some but if anything Bellamy feels more pathetic in front of Anya than he ever did before.

“The Lightbournes”she states and it almost makes Bellamy choke on his whiskey “You know their place, right? Your mom works for them?”

“She did.”

“They bought a nice new SUV a few weeks back” he’s well aware of that fact, he was the one to wash it for Russel just a few days ago when he went there begging for work just so they could make enough money for food while his mom was in the hospital “I need you guys to get it for me.”

“They have security systems.”

“Oh, you’re smart, Blake. You’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think that it’s a good idea. Hitting the same neighborhood in just a week.” Murphy tries to get them off of it too upon sensing Bellamy’s discomfort. 

“I’m not paying you to think, Murphy.” finally she gets mad and hits the desk with her fists “You’re doing that to make up for what you couldn’t get me last time.”

“And after?” Bellamy steps forward, trying not to press too hard but needing to know. “Are we done with this?”

“You’re done when I say you are.” Anya cuts him off “If it doesn’t suit you, you can hit the road and live your pathetic little lives the way you are meant to.” Bellamy winces at that but tries to ignore her statement for it was simply false no matter what she said. 

You never got free of her. She either beat you so hard you could bleed out on the streets or you worked for her for the rest of as long as you were alive. Or you got caught and pissed her off so she just cut you out completely.

“I want to fight.”

“I have too many fighters right now.” she cuts him off again “Better than you. They make good money for me.”

“I can give you more.”

“Bellamy-” Murphy warns but Bellamy shakes his head and steps forward.

“We do this. One last time just like we agreed to before and then I fight.”

“And why would I take you up on that?” she counters.

“Because you haven’t had a good hit like this in weeks and you said it yourself-I know the Lightbournes’ house like no one else. I can get you this.”

Anya stares at him for a long moment obviously contemplating on his words but also admiring his bold nature. 

Anya liked people with guts and Bellamy wasn’t going to back down from this fight. 

He wanted to be done being a thief. 

He’d stolen way too many cars in just a short period of time-it wasn’t right and his mom said it herself-it’s not how he was raised. 

Fighting was a whole different thing-he’d been punching guys who made fun of him since he was eleven, it was in him and he was good at it. 

With just a bit more training from Indra, he could be one of Anya’s best.

“Fair enough, Blake.” she finally says “But if you guys screw this up, we’re done, alright?”

Bellamy feels the tension roll off of him and with one last nod from him and Murphy, they turn around and leave.

Once outside the stuffy gym, Bellamy leans on the brick wall and holds his hand out at Murphy.

“I need another.” he simply states and Murphy scoffs, taking out his pack and shoving it in his hand. 

“Take it. I’ll have Emori get me another.” when Bellamy’s done lighting another one they finally start walking backwards. 

It’s gotten dark while they were inside meaning the meeting took longer than it felt and Bellamy hopes his mom would be asleep and not up worrying for him.

“So when do you suggest we execute this moronic plan of yours?”

Bellamy smiles and throws him a knowing look.

“Tomorrow.”

“Isn’t the weekend usually the time those rich folks are at home having nice cocktail parties and sucking each other’s dicks?”

“Exactly” Bellamy confirms “They’ll be too busy inside so they won’t be looking out. The main gates will be open and Anya is right about one thing” Murphy throw shim a curious look “I do know how to shut off their alarm system.”

He feels his friend pat his back and soon enough they are no longer heading to his house but taking a turn to Murphy’s place where they sit down with a six pack and come up with a plan while Bellamy almost finishes off his cigarettes but still itches for more.

By the time he’s home, he’s almost feeling guilty for ditching on his mom and sister like that but when he checks on them and finds them asleep in Aurora’s bedroom, he lets himself breathe-if they were resting his mom was too tired to worry about him. 

He could use that tomorrow night too-make a lame ass excuse about studying at a Murphy’s place or working some odd job, come up with something she won’t question.

He takes out the last cigarette he’s left with and opens up the window of his room and sitting up with his feet hanging on the other side.

Here he was-a broken boy, smoking on the window inside his broken house. 

His mom with her broken heart sleeping in the room next to his and his sister with her broken fucked up childhood curled up on her side. 

His own heart-fucked up by their reality, skipping beats or trumping so loudly he felt the world spinning as he looks up at the stars and thinks how as a boy he believed in them and in their power to make things right in his world or if not that, at least somewhat bearable.

He’d see one of them fall and make a stupid wish-a better house, less work for his mom, more things for his sister.

Now he knew those stars for what they were-a dying light disappearing into the darkness in a way one day he would too. 

He often thought how he was too young to think about death so much but he always had-carrying that sadness deep within him, dragging it everywhere he went, breathing it out into the cold air even now.

He turned away from the stars-they’d never help him and he didn’t believe in them anymore.

Instead his gaze falls on their sunken roof and with a wince he thinks how he has to finally get up there and fix it before the snow comes and makes an ever harder dent like the one inside his soul burned out from all the injustice he has seen in the world.

He leans his head on the window stale and breaths out the smoke. For a brief moment he closes his eyes and thinks he’ll see a the map of the sky he was looking at printed in his own darkness but instead he remembers Clarke Griffin’s face and his words echoing at the back of his mind.

_“I’ll see you Saturday, princess.”_

For a second there’s a sharp pain in his heart that recently he could feel more often than not but he shrugs it off and gives it out to the fact that he’d once again lied to the person who did nothing but help him. 

He wouldn’t make it there tomorrow, he now had other business to attend to.

Yet maybe, he thought, it was for the better. 

If he failed to meet up with her, Clarke would see things for the way they truly are and realize that Bellamy Blake only used people when he could, that deep down he was a coward and that his intentions were never honest. 

That he’s a thief who stole without a second thought, that he punched others and enjoyed it.

And at last, that he was not half the man his mother ever hoped he’d be.

* * *

Run.

That’s the only thing going through his mind as he pulls Murphy by the sleeve of his dirty ragged jacket and yells at him to keep going.

His friend screams his name when the first bullet wheezes by so close to Bellamy’s ear that he doesn’t even realize what it is at first.

They’re being shot at.

Bellamy hears the sirens and briefly closes his eyes, cursing their goddamn luck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had turn the damn alarm off. They were almost outside the gates, just about to make it out when the first police car blocked their way.

Murphy was a good driver. It is why Bellamy liked keeping him close and doing these things with him. 

He was always completely unabashed by the situation no matter who was chasing them or how fast he had to drive to escape.

Except this time he couldn’t do it-there really was no way out for them which is why they were forced to park on a curb near a darker street and jump out the fancy black SUV belonging to the Lightbournes.

“Goddammit, Bellamy, they’ll kill us!” Murphy shouts and just he is about to turn around and tell him to shove it and just keep going, pull him to a dead street between the apartment complexes and make them split and run for the park forest so that the trees could provide them with enough cover to dodge, he feels something burn his right arm and a wave of sudden, rash unwelcome burning pain overwhelms him.

“Bellamy!”

He’s dropped Murphy’s hand and when he turns his head over to check on him, he finds him on all fours, probably having tripped over something. 

In the near distance, he could see figures running towards them, arms raised holding guns, yelling warnings. 

Blue and red lights flashing down the street, illuminating his face, blinding him for seconds just enough to try and make him lose any concentration he was left with.

“Shit!” Bellamy curses and pushes the feeling of something thick and warm coming down the sleeve of his jumper, wetting it in the uncomfortable way he often felt when rain followed him as he ran home. 

Except this time, he wasn’t running back to safety-he was fucked and he was trying to survive.

Who even shot at underage kids? Why would they? 

The though passed through his mind as he crouches down to wrap his arms around Murphy’s torso and lift him up but he only makes it halfway before he feels yet another sharp pain in his shoulder, this time stronger, way more violent. 

Pushing through his back and into his chest, near his heart. It’s like a bolt of lightening in the sky-those storms that he had always so lovingly stared at from his bedroom window while Octavia whimpered scared of the noise and pressed her body closer to him begging him to keep her safe.

Who’d keep her safe now?

He briefly collapses onto Murphy’s back and he thinks that this will be it-they’d fall on the wet road and pass out because it hurts so much he can’t stifle this yell and maybe that is what makes his friend look at him, eyes wide and scared like he’d never seen in Murphy before.

“No.” he whispers more to himself than to him “No.” I won’t cry he thinks, I’m not going to cry, I’m strong, I can do this.

Bellamy has no idea if he’s speaking this out or if it’s just in his head but whatever it is that happens, he somehow makes it back up to his feet and grabs onto Murphy’s elbow to keep himself steady for just a brief minute.

“Bellamy” his friend breathes out, the figures approaching them now, voices getting louder by the second “You’re hurt.”

He can’t think about that now, can’t care enough for his own safety. 

_This, from the start, has never been about him._

He didn’t go around stealing other people’s cars for the fun of it-if that was what pushed Murphy, it wasn’t what drove him into dark alleys and cops shooting at them.

It has always been his sister’s smile when he brought home groceries and made her pancakes. 

It was his mom’s soft embrace when he came in with the electricity bill paid in hand. 

It was Octavia’s hug when she begged him for ice cream from the corner shop down the street and he obliged. 

It was Aurora’s cold hand cupping his cheek when he bought the medicine from her renewed prescription.

_It has always been for them._

“We have to run, can’t let them catch us.” he blabbers out and Murphy gives him a sharp determined nod. 

This time he’s the one to pull him forward, grabbing him by the arm but in the heat of the moment choosing the bad one. 

Bellamy wants to scream in pain and agony but pushes it down and forces his feet to move forward. 

If it wasn’t for his strong grip, he would’ve passed out the minute he started running again but maybe because of the adrenaline in his body and the sheer Blake stubbornness to escape this godawful situation, he pushes forward.

They barely make it down the street when out of nowhere on a left, another police car comes right up, blocking their way. They’re running so fast that they can’t prevent the crash and because Murphy’s the one leading them, he hits the hood of the car first with Bellamy tumbling over him and crashing on the ground right after.

“We got them!” the cops yell and he tries to make himself stand up but he can’t force his feet too cooperate, not this time at least. 

Before he knows it, someone’s violently pushing him to the ground, rolling him over so that his face is pressed to the road and putting his hands behind his back.

They’re not just arresting them-they’re being evil, spitting curses and offensive words about them being little thieves and bastards. 

One kicks him in the ribs more than once before grabbing the back of his hair and shoving it so hard into the ground, he feels little rocks dig into the side of his face.

He still tries to fight them, move his head up, find Murphy, who ends up being on his right in the same position he was but keeping still, having given up. 

Bellamy can’t, it’s not who he is. 

He struggles under the big cop, trashes against him and the road, desperate to get himself free. 

It only earns him a baton being swayed to his ribs, on the same side they kicked before and his face being shoved down again so hard, he felt his whole world shake.

“This one’s a fighter.” he hears him say but keeps raging, swinging, trying to get himself free though he knows how hopeless it is. They’ve been caught-there was no escape. 

“Just tease him and get them in the car” another voice says and he manages to meet Murphy’s eyes just a second before he feels an electric shock coarse through his already weakened body, he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels himself shake and it must really be too much if when he closes his eyes he sees a white light blinding him so hard that he feels them roll to the back of his head before he finally relaxes and his body goes limp.

He’s in and out of consciousness on the way to the station. 

Murphy’s next to him and he’s trying to wake him, keep him afloat but the pain of the wound on his arm is so strong that the whole world swings before his eyes.

They drag them out of the car and inside a busy building full of uniformed men and women before they’re guided through a darker hallway with rolls of cells.

Murphy yells at them something about Bellamy being hurt but they don’t seem to care. 

They’re shoved in a smaller cell at the end of the hallway and Bellamy’s so weak he falls on his knees and swings to the floor.

He hears Murphy yell, grip the bars with his hands and trying to fight for them but he’s too spent to make the words out.

“Murphy-” he manages to let out when he feels like he’s about to collapse on the floor. 

He almost does but Murphy must’ve heard him because he crouches down, wraps his arm around his waist and Bellamy is so weak he instantly leans into his side for support.

“Shit. Those bastards, you’re hurt” he reaches to the wound on his arm and when Bellamy looks down at himself he sees his soaked sleeve and tries to shake his head but it only makes the blur before his eyes grow.

“It’s just a graze.” he breathes out, realizing how loud the trumping of his heart is and reaching to touch his chest because of the sharp pain that he felt more often than not there lately. 

It was from all the running, he thought to himself-he was just tired, it was nothing.

“Come on, let’s get you to the bench.” Murphy lifts him up but his feet feel nothing like his own and he quickly falls back to the floor with a loud trump. Every part of his body hurts but the burning pain, not in his arm, but his shoulder is what makes him cry out. 

Tears spill down his face as Murphy drags his limp body to the bench and tries to put him laying down.

“No,no upright,keep me sitting.” he manages and Murphy must have heard him because he pushes his back to the cold wall but refuses to let his arm leave Bellamy’s back in order to support him.

“Let me see-” Murphy reaches for the zip of his sweater and pulls it down only to find half his left side covered in blood “Shit, that’s a bullet wound. The bastards fucking shot you.”

“No, it’s just a graze on my arm.” he has to believe that that’s all there is and he squeezes his eyes shut when he moves his head up and closes his eyes. “If they really shot me they wouldn’t leave me here.”

“I doubt they fucking saw, Blake.” he spits back and he might be right. 

The blood had mixed with the black color of his sweater and even now, with the light coming from the ceiling, he still couldn’t distinguish the red spots no matter how hard he tries to. 

That or it was just his blurry vision. 

“Or if they did, they couldn’t care less. What’s one less criminal off their streets?”

“It’s okay.” Bellamy says more to himself than to Murphy who’s not paying attention to his words at all.

“You’re right, there is a graze but-” Murphy’s hand covers the cut on his arm and he moves up before him, leaving him to rest on his good hand so his fingers can inspect his shoulder.

“You were also definitely hit, Blake.”

He looks down and realizes Murphy’s not wrong. 

He knew it, he did feel the burning pain twice but he refused to accept that he was actually shot. 

There’s just too much blood, more than he’s ever seen before in his eyes and Murphy curses as he takes off his jacket and tears his shirt to wrap it around his shoulder in an awkward way.

It starts soaking almost right away, he feels it, it’s too wet and it’s pulling him down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Murphy stands up and buries his bloody hands in his hair pacing around nervously “We’re screwed.”

“Call…call my mom. We gotta call her.” is all that Bellamy manages. “She’ll…she’ll know what to do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Murphy crouches beside him putting his hand on his knee to get his blurry eyes to focus on his but when Bellamy swings violently and almost falls on the bench, he is fast enough to sit by his side and keep him upright.

“Bellamy, I thought you said she was sick.”

Bellamy reaches for his hand and grips it tightly, trying to keep himself from passing out but feeling that his eyes were drooping.

“We have the right to one phone call….you have to make it….you know our home number…mom’s…mom’s there, she has to be, so just-”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll call her” Murphy promises “Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen!” he curses once more gripping his head with his hands, running his fingers through his messy hair and breathing in and out, trying to compose himself. 

When he looks up, though he finds Bellamy breathing in heavily, his face paler even on the dim light of the cell, his good hand covering his bleeding shoulder.

“Murphy-”

“I got it, just hold on, okay?” he asks of him and covers his hand with Bellamy’s one. 

Bellamy doesn’t register him, though, his eyes start drooping more and more so Murphy’s hand shoots for his neck and shakes him a bit.

“Hey, gotta stay awake for me alright? Just stay awake for me, Blake.” Bellamy gives him a slow nod but still leans his head back on the wall and tries to control his breathing. 

He sees Murphy grab the bars of their cell and shake them hard, yell for the cops as loud as he could. 

The sound pierces through the haze of Bellamy’s world but he still feels really weak. 

It’s a struggle to pull in air through his lungs, his heart is beating so loud it could compete with Murphy’s desperate attempts to free himself.

His hand falls from his chest to his lap and his head hangs low.

He starts drifting in and out of consciousness again, has only vague memories of what’s happening-at first he knows that Murphy gets a guard there to open up and take him somewhere to make a phone call. 

For a minute there he’s sure his friend argues for him and asks for a doctor but the guard says something about their medic no longer being at the station and that he was fine, it was just a scratch. 

How he could tell from a distance that he was okay when the blood had started dripping on the bench he was sitting on, was beyond him.

He drifts off.

Then wakes up to Murphy patting his cheek. 

He seems worried, way too worried probably because he must look quite awful. Bellamy feels weak and he wants to tell him so but he doesn’t have the strength to.   
“They’re coming man” he says holding his face in his hands “They’re coming, don’t worry, they’ll be here any minute now.” he comes by his side again and helps maneuver him so that most of his body is practically half laying on his friend’s chest.

Somehow it makes him feel a bit better, the pain though still sharp is somewhat bearable or so he likes to think, maybe it’s just his imagination, the adrenaline still running through him or the blood loss.

“Don’t give up on me now, Blake.” Murphy says and Bellamy feels his hand in his curls, digging at his scalp just a bit as if to ground him. 

Bellamy smiles at that-it was their line, the thing they never talked about. 

The day they met, Bellamy was having lunch on his own in the backyard-it was his first day of high school and it was going horrible-the kids at school mocked him about his old clothes or his torn up shoes when he heard some noise coming from the corner near the basket ball court and quickly rushed there to find three guys trying to beat up Murphy.

He had stepped in but still they got their asses kicked because the kids were older and stronger than them. 

It was one of the most exciting fights he’s ever been in, though Murphy was lying on the ground breathless, face bloodied and exhausted.

Bellamy had come by, grabbed his hand and tried to raise him up but Murphy was in so much pain he simply couldn’t do it.

“Come on kid, don’t give up on me now.” Bellamy had said and Murphy had smiled at that. It was that moment when he knew they’d be friends no matter what “We just kicked some major ass.”

“They beat us to a pulp.” Murphy had groaned but this time when Bellamy had pulled him up, he had managed to at least sit and try to brush the dirt off his chest and shoulders. 

“It’s a matter of perspective.” Bellamy had laughed and reached his hand out for a second time, more than anyone has ever done for him in his life before and surely never in such a short period of time.

Now he was the one to hold him, reach his hand and ground him with stupid senseless promises. 

Bellamy couldn’t register half of what he was saying, only caught words here and there but he felt somewhat better, it was somehow easier to breathe.

“Murphy, you’re being dramatic” he tries when he feels his eyes droop again “I told you it’s just a graze.” Murphy’s grip tightens on his back and head but Bellamy still welcomes it even if it hurts some because it helps him keep his eyes opened.

“Why do you always have to fight everyone, huh, Blake?” he asks and Bellamy gives him a light shrug.

“I just love being stubborn.” it’s a weak attempt to joke but it still makes Murphy smile just barely. 

He closes his eyes when he feels another shiver run through his spine. Murphy must notice but he’s too because he furrows his eyebrows.

“Are you cold?” Bellamy manages a light nod and Murphy curses when he carefully peels him off his side and rests his back to the cold wall again so he could take off his jacket and throw it over him. Before he knows what’s happening his friend is once again half holding him but this time he wraps his arm around his back, his face is pressed to his chest while his lower body rests on the bench and his legs hang over the side. 

It’s like Bellamy’s a kid and he’s being held by his mom, wrapped in her arm and pressed to her chest just like when he got sick with a cold and was coughing his lungs out.

_His mom._

The thought makes him realize how much he wants to see her now. 

How he wishes she could hold him like that and tell him everything will be alright.

“Well that’s it, Blake” Murphy breaks the silence and through his haze that’s only growing thicker, Bellamy looks up at him “We’re officially an old married couple.”

He tries to laugh at that but it comes out as a cough that sends another violent tremor through his body and Murphy has to shush him and once again tighten his grip to make sure he doesn’t end up on the floor.

“Was she mad-” Bellamy whispers when he finally manages to control his breathing again.

Murphy looks at him confused before his friend continues.

“My mom…was she angry when you called her?” 

“I think she was just really worried.”

“I hope she’s okay.” 

That was Bellamy Blake for you, Murphy thought, worrying about his mom’s well being when he was bleeding out in a police station cell. 

He doesn’t know what to answer to that so he just helps him move up a bit when his body grows more limp and sluggish. 

He was getting paler by the minute and though he had no idea how much blood he had lost exactly, Murphy knew it was quite a lot by now. 

His bad side was pressed to his chest so he could feel some of it seep in through his clothes and color his own shirt so he carefully placed his hand over the haphazard bandage he’s made in a desperate hope to slow the bleeding.

“Hey, Murphy-” he speaks up and his voice comes out really hoarse like it always did when he was smoking cigarette after cigarette outside because his worry was a never ending fountain that needed release. 

He knew some about that-this rage and pain inside you that turned into a storm deep in your heart you could barely contain. 

Some days it was stronger than you, pulling you down so low you sunk like a raft in a raging ocean, other times it needed to get out, it was bigger, overwhelming, catastrophic, beautiful in its violence but maddening in the way it drained you after. 

Like all the blood has left your body.

“If something happens tonight and…if I just…don’t get to see my mom or Octavia, I-”

“No.” Murphy stubbornly shakes his head and finds his hand to grip it tightly, moving it away from his wound for a second “We’re not doing this, Blake.”

“Murphy, I have to say this, please.” he begs and feels himself grow weaker by the minute.

“I won’t hear it. I refuse to.” Murphy says and he detects the anger in his voice but it just only makes him smile because he sounds like a five year old who was just denied ice cream.

“You can’t do that.” Bellamy shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my brother.” Murphy deflates at that, he can feel that even the grip on his back grows weaker for a moment before he remembers to hold him so he doesn’t fall face down on the floor.

“You think that cheesy bullshit works on me, Blake? Come on. We’ve known each other for years, I thought you knew better.” he wants to retort with something snarky, make a joke out of it because they’ve never really had a deep conversation like that. 

Instead, they had an understanding-they never let the other get in trouble on their own, they always had their backs, through thick and thin, they’d help the other stand up. 

They had done as much so tonight, they were actually still doing it right this moment too with Murphy grounding him to consciousness.

They’ve always been there for each other.

Except for that one time. 

Bellamy struggles to take in a breath again but manages to swallow hard before he speaks up again.

“Where were you…the night we had to rob the Griffins?” he doesn’t know why he needs to ask that now, what it matters at all considering their current circumstances but he’s trying to circle around the more serious conversation he wanted to have a minute before just to make Murphy get over his bullshit so he can tell him what he needs his mom to know.

Murphy swallows hard and closes his eyes.

“Blake, I…something happened.” the sound of his voice forces Bellamy to open his eyes and look at him. 

There was so much pain in there, for once he was actually allowing himself to let it out, to show it to the world even if right now the universe couldn’t care less about the two of them and the only one who would hear him was a bleeding probably dying boy.

“What?”

“It was my mom.” he spills finally looking away as if ashamed “I came home and I found her…” he shakes his head unable to talk about it and Bellamy squeezes his hand thinking how the universe can’t be that cruel to them-having both their parents suffer so much from loss and grief.

“It was bad. I had to help her. I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“Is she okay?”

“She died in the hospital. I guess she took too many pills, they couldn’t…” he chokes on the last words and Bellamy reaches for his hand.

“Shit, Murphy I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I just couldn’t- I was a mess that night so I just ran over to Emori’s place and stayed there for a while.”

“You should’ve told me.” Bellamy chides mildly but he understands why he didn’t. 

“You had your own mother to worry about.” Murphy points out and purposefully stares at the ceiling instead of meeting his eyes “How on earth did we get dealt such shitty cards, Blake?”

He doesn’t know what to say to that-his friend was right. 

All there was in their lives was pain, grief, struggle, so much goddamn struggle and for such simple things. 

To get enough food on the table, to pay a bill, to buy medicine. 

Was it really worth it, he had wondered on some nights as he stared at the sky from his room, did it really matter?

Here he was trying his best and yet he fucked up, once more, he couldn’t get money for his mom’s proper treatment, couldn’t make his sister smile.

“It’s all too fucked up.” he mumbles finally and feels another shiver run through him, making him shake really hard. 

Murphy feels it and tries to hold him tighter, calls his name but for a moment all there is is blinding pain so he closes his eyes and just tries to keep himself there and not lose himself to the darkness.

“Hey, come on now, they’ll be here any minute, okay? Just a bit longer.” Murphy begs him but Bellamy’s hand falls from his and hangs over to the side of the cot.

He’s scared-there are so many things he wants to say and do and yet the only thing he wishes for is to see his mom and Octavia and tell them how much he loves them. 

Nothing else, he thinks, that would be enough.

“It’d be enough.” he whispers but it’s so quiet Murphy doesn’t really understand him so he shakes him more and begs of him to please, please hold on a bit longer. 

The wet patch on his left side has grown so much and he knows he’s soaked his friend’s shirt too because when Murphy pulls him up and cups his cheek calling his name there’s this unpleasant wet feeling there. 

It smells like iron and death and it’s scary, it’s dark. 

He doesn’t want to go in there.

He closes his eyes and tries to think back of something good and even if he can’t make sense of Murphy’s words he uses them at the back of his mind, as a way to keep himself from completely getting lost.

He remembers this sunny day when he was seven, just a bit after Octavia was born. 

His mom was sitting on the swinging chair on the front porch, rocking her back and forth, trying to put her to sleep and he was running around, riding his old bicycle but quickly getting sick of it and dropping it off to pick flowers.

“I’m making you a flower crown, mom!” he had said raising the little bouquet in his hands. 

His mom had smiled fondly and said something supportive back while he picked more and more and then sat by her feet near the chair busy doing his work, his tongue sticking out, his eyes concentrated on the task.

His mom and O had drifted off, every now and then, his little sister would coo, raise her fist in the air but with a kiss on the head from his mom, she’d quiet down. 

He’d glance up at them and smile thinking how peaceful they were and when he was done, he climbed up on his mom’s lap and put the crown on her head. 

She had smiled and pulled him in for a hug while running her fingers through his hair. 

Then he pulled away to show her the smaller crown he made for Octavia and with her help they’d placed it on her. 

O had squirmed in her mom’s arms, then opened her eyes and gave them a big wide yawn that made them laugh before the buried her face to her mom’s chest and let the tiniest of sneezes out.

“Maybe she doesn’t like the daisies.” he had said while looking down at her worriedly, his mom still staring at him with love and admiration while her hand run up and down his tiny back.

“She does. She just needs a little time getting used to them.”Aurora promises and pushes his head to her chest as she kisses the top of his head. 

Her hand cups his cheek and he closes his eyes, feeling happy and content.

Something pulls Bellamy from his memories, though-someone’s yelling around him, they sound angry and then he feels the same bony cold fingers cupping his cheek.

Could it be? Was she here?

He opens his eyes but it’s all a blur and he hates that he can’t make anything out. 

There’s a feeling on his side, a heavy and uncomfortable one that pulled at him and surely enough transformed into a stabbing shooting pain. 

He squirms in Murphy’s arms and groans though he doesn’t want to. If his mom’s really here, he can’t worry her.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re here, we’re here.” he hears her voice and this time when his eyes open he actually manages to make out her features even if for a brief moment.

“How could you do this? You shot him and left him here like this! This is against the law!” another voice says and it sounds familiar again but when he turns to follow it, his vision gets blurry again and all he makes out is a blond sunny patch which makes his breath hitch.

No, he thinks. Clarke can’t be here.

But when she’s done fighting with whoever she was, she comes closer by next to his mom and stares down at him worriedly. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Princess?”

“What the hell happened?” his mom asks angrily “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” 

Someone moves his sweater away and touches the lame bandage Murphy tried to fashion. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as not to scream from the way the shooting pain grows at that.

“We need to get him to Jackson right away. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Mom-” he manages when he feels them move him up into a sitting position. 

They argue, ask questions, maybe even try to talk to him, but he can’t make sense of any of it. 

He just knows they raise him up and he wants to help them, stand on his feet, but he almost collapses to the ground. 

He breathes in heavily and stifles a scream when they basically drag him down the hallway-Murphy’s on his bad side, of that he’s sure but whoever was on his good one wasn’t his mother-she wasn’t that strong, not in her condition anyway so despite his mind refusing to believe it, when he turns his head, he realizes he wasn’t hallucinating-Clarke was really there.

It made no sense in his mind.

But it was her.

The small hand on his back and the one holding his arm over her shoulders was reassurance enough.

He manages to get himself together for just a second when they’re finally outside in the opened. 

There’s a car there-the one he tried to steal from her, he thinks vaguely but it’s the cold air that’s helping him breathe a bit easier.

When they put him inside, though, that’s when the pain overwhelms him, blinds him so hard, he completely blacks out.

Everything after comes in patches, like a wrongfully sewn puzzle of his heart after it being scattered away in the wind and a kid tried to run and gather all the pieces but failing to find everything.

They talk a lot, yell at each other, he hears Murphy’s frantic voice, feels his mom’s hands on his cheek. 

Then someone carries him outside, this time wrapping his arms around his back and under his knees so at least he doesn’t have to try and walk or stand upright.

Then their house…was it their house? Why was it so warm inside? Where did all the light come from?

He says something but he doesn’t know what exactly, the words and people looking at him change, the faces blur into one thing. 

He’s put down on something soft and when his head falls to the left he breathes in a familiar scent and he knows then, he knows for sure-he’s home.

“Will he be okay? Can you help him?” his mom’s voice he thinks. 

He wants to tell her not to worry but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out but a small whimper.

“He lost a lot of blood. Clarke, I need you to give me a hand.” a male’s voice, familiar again. 

His eyes close though, he can’t keep up anymore and he finally feels at peace because he knows that he’s right where he needs to be.

Hands move him, roll him over, prod his shoulder, push him down when his body violently fights back. 

They yell some more above him and he thinks how he can’t distinguish Murphy’s voice.

He opens his eyes and finds Jackson looking down at him while cleaning up the wound on his shoulder. 

His mom’s somewhere on the right and Clarke’s hair gloats next to the doctor and further low by his feet.

“It hurts” he manages to whisper and his mom’s hand hand cups his cheek again. “Mom,please…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” she says and just when he feels her lean down and kiss his forehead, there’s a pinch in his left arm and the last thing he feels is someone’s small hand holding his and his mom promising him the pain will go away.

And she’s right-it ebbs away and there’s only darkness that’s not scary this time but rather comforting and he smiles when he lefts himself drift into it, thinking about summer days and flower crowns.


	4. The darkness takes us hostage and spits us out unmade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy International Woman's day!!!
> 
> This chapter is emotional so I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you to those of you who comment. I don't think this story will be my most loved or popular one but even those few of you who like it make my heart fill with joy. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated.
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

The darkness shifts shapes and proportions. 

One moment he’s a child happily playing with his sister, the next he’s shoved in dark hallways getting beaten up or running and getting shot at while Murphy reached to grab his hand and pull him over the edge of a rock-none of it made sense when he was dreaming it but it was scary and on the rare moment when his body caught up with reality, he knew, realized, at the back of his head that he was trashing his bed but there were always hands, pushing him down, voices screaming, something cold pressed to his forehead, someone trying to give him water.

Was it real? Or was it a dream too? He had no idea.

Finally, when he seems to be strong enough to emerge from the darkness, he can’t open his eyes right away and it takes him more than a few minutes to let his heart, that was beating so loud in his chest, quiet down some so he could make out what the voices around him were saying.

“He’s still feverish?” something or someone must’ve sat near him because he feels the bed shift. 

A hand reaches for his forehead but it’s not his mom’s one-this one’s smaller and a bit warmer. 

His mom’s hands were always cold and in this moment they might’ve been able to bring him some comfort considering that he does feel like he’s on fire. 

He doesn’t understand-didn’t they help him? Why did it hurt so much?

“Jackson said it’s infected.” now that voice he’d know anywhere, it was his mom and he feels the fear inside him ebb away somewhat but his heart is still beating loudly “I don’t get how it happened but…”

“He’ll be fine.” the other voice sounds determined in a way only one person he knew did “Just needs some time.”

“I hope you’re right.” his mom must lean closer to him and brush the hair from his forehead away. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he wills his head to turn in the direction of the movement.

“Did he just-?”

“Bellamy, can you hear me?”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out and the more he tries to open his eyes, the more the pain in his shoulder intensifies. 

He struggles against the bed, desperate for a realize when it gets to be too sharp and too much.

“No, don’t move come on!” the other voice gets closer and someone’s hand falls on his good shoulder pushing him down.

“Bellamy, open your eyes.” his mom begs, cupping his cheek in a familiar way that send him back to the memory of him being in a cell and almost losing himself to the darkness. 

The touch was just as light but at the same time comforting as it was before.

He groans, struggles some more against the hands trying to keep him still, he moves his head away from his mom shaking left and right until she manages to grab his face and keep him still.

“Breathe, Bellamy” she commands “Come on, just breathe” he struggles to pull air in and out. 

Every time he does, there’s a stabbing pain up on his left side and twice as strong one in his shoulder. 

His heart is trumping so loud it makes it hard for him to hear anything and he can feel the tears gather in his eyes and threaten to spill.

“Mom” he breathes out when he finally opens his eyes. 

She’s staring down at him worriedly, seriously and by the way she’s biting her lips, he can tell she’s angry but she was here.

“My sweet boy” she whispers when she leans down to kiss his burning forehead and stroke his head after she pulls away.

“Welcome back, Blake.” he turns to the left and finds Clarke there, squeezing his hand and smiling at him genuinely. 

He looks around-he was in his mom’s bedroom, covered in a bunch of blankets. 

When he stares down at his chest he finds it wrapped up in bandages, his ribs were a dark shade of blue and when he tried to move his arm, his shoulder screamed in protest.

“What happened?” he asks when they pull away giving him some time to take in his surroundings but remain on both his sides. 

“You tell us.” his mom speaks up first “Murphy called me in the middle of the night crying and begging me to come to the station because you guys were caught and you were really hurt.”

He closes his eyes briefly, feeling a shiver run down his spine-his head was as if blown up, his heart wouldn’t quite down and it was making it so hard for him to breathe.

“Where’s he?” is what he asks instead meeting his mom’s eyes again. 

She purses her lips and looks down to her lap, refusing to give him an answer.

“Mom, it wasn’t his fault” he tries to move up and sit but though he leans on his good arm he still isn’t strong enough so he ends up falling back to the sheets with a quiet thud which sends another bout of burning pain in his entire body.

They both rush to scold him, push him down and get angry at his stupidity.

“Don’t move-you’re really hurt.” Clarke says and he feels so embarrassed to have to face her in this state after she obviously saved his ass yet again “You were shot-” she keeps on when he raises his eyebrows in question. 

Yes that much he knew, he was beginning to remember but he still couldn’t understand why the pain was so intense or why his heart wouldn’t quiet down.

“The bullet went through and through but by the time we got you here, you had lost a lot of blood.”

“Was Jackson…I think I remember seeing him?” he turns to his mom and she nods.

“When Murphy called me I got in touch with Clarke. She gave me her and Jackson’s number the last time they were here in case we needed help.”

_Damn Clarke and her big heart_ , he thinks, briefly closing his eyes and feeling his cheeks burn even more than they already were.

“When we got you out you were trashing, begging us not to take you to the hospital, asking for me, mumbling things that made no sense.”

“So we brought you here and Jackson patched you up.” Clarke keeps on when his mom chokes on her words, clearly having a hard time talking about him in the state he was back then “You had lost a lot of blood but you were still trying to fight us.”

“I…I remember some of that.”

“Jackson sedated you but he was worried about the blood loss so he had to go to the hospital and get a few bags but it was going to take too much time and your breathing was growing really shallow even though we had patched up the wound.”

“So what happened?”

“Murphy gave some blood. Jackson did something called a direct transfusion, we weren’t sure it’d work.” his mom clarifies and he moves his good hand up to his face and runs it down tiredly.

“But it did.” Clarke squeezes his hand again. 

He feels so embarrassed about it all-that he got himself in trouble like this, that his mom had to call Clarke and save him, that Jackson fought for his life even when it was so damn hard to.

He owed these people his life and he had given them nothing in return. 

All that he’s ever done is worry his mom sick and use Clarke for her money and her connections to a doctor because he was too poor and fucked up to get his mom or himself the help he needed.

_He was a mess._

_A broken boy._

_A burden._

None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten involved with Anya. 

If he wasn’t so eager to get more money faster than working honestly and saving like his mom always said. 

He was selfish and greedy and he should’ve died in that cell and set them all free.

“Who paid bail?” he asks when he opens his eyes again and though he knows the answer to his question, his mom still purses her lips and looks at Clarke gratefully. 

He sighs and feels himself sink even lower. 

He had thought the nightmares were bad but this…him awake and facing all his wrongs-this was his actual punishment. 

Not the wound in his shoulder or his mom’s tired sad face-it was this-the realization that he was not a good man. 

That he has never actually been.

Clarke senses his discomfort so she rubs her thumb over his hand and tries to give him a supportive smile.

“It’s nothing, Bellamy.”

“We’ll pay her when we get back on our feet.” his mom adds but he doesn’t acknowledge it, he’s already too angry and desperate and sad and he just wants to have the answers to the rest of his questions so he can wallow in the feeling of his own weakness on his own.

“Where’s Murphy?” he asks his earlier question again and this time it’s his mom’s turn to get angry, though he tries really hard not to show it, but he sees it in the way she fists the blanket and looks down at his pale face, contemplating what to say. 

Clarke moves in her place nervously and that tells him all there is to know.

“He had to go home.” she finally explains.

“Mom, this wasn’t him.” he tries to convince her again shaking his head stubbornly and attempting to sit up once more. 

He fails and huffs annoyed at the pain but lets it coarse through him without a fight because now he knows he deserves it. 

“If anything I dragged him into this.”

“We can talk about this later. Now you need to get some rest. Jackson will be here later to check on you.” she cuts him off when she stands up to adjust his blankets and runs her fingers through his hair once more “I’ll go make some tea.”

He wants to fight her, tell her she should be resting and in bed because she was still sick but before he can do that, she’s already out the door and he’s left with Clarke sitting there still on his left, holding his hand in hers.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment as he tries to get himself in a more comfortable position and yet the more he moves, the worse it gets.

“You should really stop doing that.” she tries and he finally relaxes back but it hurts a lot so the best he can do is fist his blanket and hope for it to pass “How do you feel?”

“Cold” he manages to mumble after a minute of trying to compose himself before meeting her eyes.

“Your wound’s infected. Jackson is giving you antibiotics.” she explains as she grabs a wet cloth from the night stand and places it over his burning forehead. 

The sensation intensifies the cold feeling that runs through his body for just a second before he gets used to it. 

He does feel his cheeks are hot and burning but he was shivering hard under the blankets and he had to grit his teeth to prevent them from chattering. 

“The bullet was really close to your artery, it skipped it by just an inch.”

“So you’re saying I’m lucky to be alive, princess?” he says half sarcastically, raising his eyebrows at her.

“You actually are.” she responds seriously “If we were a bit late, no one knows what would’ve happened.”

“I think I remember you yelling at those cops. You sounded scary.” she smiles at that and looks down at their intertwined hands. 

The warmth of having hers covering his makes the shivering just a bit better but if anything when he realizes how intimate this is, his heart starts beating twice as hard.

“They deserved it for all they’ve done to you.” she gets serious again “You and your mom can sue their asses.”

“I doubt it will make any difference considering I was committing a crime.”

“That doesn’t matter, they shot you and they should’ve provided medical help but they let you bleed out in a cell.” she continues determined “No one deserves that, no matter what they did.”

“Maybe in your world that could work, princess.” he says sadly, without any bitterness in his voice, he’s just sincere, speaking out loud the thoughts that have plagued him since he was a kid growing up in a neighborhood where shootings happened almost every day. 

“Things in Arkadia are different.”

“They don’t have to be.” she’s stubborn, he’ll give her that but he doesn’t want to fight her on it now, both because he’s too tired and also because he didn’t really think he’d be able to make her see things from his perspective.

“Thank you for saving me again.” he finally speaks what’s been on his mind from the moment he saw her there sitting by his side “I don’t know what I did to deserve it. You barely know me and yet…you were so kind to help me twice.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“No, don’t brush it off.” he fights her and moves up on the pillows, struggling to breathe again. 

She scolds him but helps him by adjusting them behind his back in a way that’d make it more comfortable. 

Being in a different position with his shoulder protesting to much made him feel like his arm was falling off but he pushed through it.

“This is important. What you’re doing ….what you did for me and my family-” he chokes up on the words and she squeezes his hand again.

“Bellamy, it’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have made it here without you. My mom…she would’ve not be standing up doing things around the house if you hadn’t helped. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I’m grateful for it and I promise you I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you. For everything.” when he looks up and meets her eyes he sees that she’s gotten teary herself and is brushing at her cheeks trying to hide it away. 

He smiles-she looked so soft to him in that moment-her hair a bit messy, his blue eyes so light as if he could look himself in them and see the purest version of his dark self. 

It made his heart clench but he reached and cupped her cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“Thank you, Clarke.” she nods, too overwhelmed to give him a proper response and when he finally pulls away he feels himself blush too. “I don’t know why you did what you did but I’ll never be able to repay you for it.”

She’s quiet for a long while before she speaks up again and he patiently waits for her to gather her thoughts even though he’s starting to grow really tired.

“My friend Wells died in a car crash last year” she says quietly “I was there with him. I called him to come pick me up from our place because I had this big fight with my mom.”

“Jesus Clarke, I’m-” she shakes her head interrupting him before he can say anything else, she needed to say this and he owed her enough to listen to her “He was the kindest soul. I knew him since I was a baby. His mom and mine were together in the hospital when they gave birth, his father knows mine from college”

“You were bounded from the start?” Bellamy offers and she nods with a soft smile.

“He was like a brother to me. When I came home that first night to help your mom and I saw you with your sister in your arms it kind of reminded me of Wells and I. The way you carried yourself around them- with such warmth and gentleness…it really spoke to me.”

He closes his eyes for a moment thinking how she can’t look at him and see good. 

_He wasn’t good._

He was a thief and a criminal and he did not deserve her kindness.

But this wasn’t about him now-it was the first moment he ever heard her talk about her life, share something with him, not that they’ve really had that much of a chance to talk before but he was holding onto every word with whatever he could, desperate to find more about her.

“I’m sorry that you lost him. You both deserved better.”

“He did.”

“So do you, princess.” he reaches to squeeze her hand again and she smiles but doesn’t say anything in return. 

The silence is not awkward or heavy-it’s actually quite comfortable and he lets himself sink lower in bed, feeling drained.

“There are some pills Jackson left for the pain, so we can-” she begins sensing his discomfort but he opens his eyes again and shakes his head stubbornly.

“I’m alright.”

“Didn’t expect you to say anything else.” Clarke smiles at his response and turns her head when she hears the door open again.

“He’s a stubborn boy.” his mom says carrying in a tray with not just tea but food as well. “You have to eat.”

“Where did you get all that?” he asks instead but she shoots him a look so he just pouts and pulls the blanket up his chest with his good hand when she puts it over his legs.

“I’m not really hungry, mom.”

“She’s right, though, you need to get your strength back, help fight the infection.” Clarke intervenes when she sees Aurora open her mouth to fight him. 

He sighs but picks up the spoon and despite not feeling it at all, he takes a few sips and he has to admit it, it does make him feel a bit better.

“Where’s Octavia?” he asks the obvious question and his mom avoids his look which only makes him worry “Is she okay?”

“I send her off to your aunt for a while.” that makes him stand up straighter and forget all about eating, putting his spoon back in the bowl. 

With the corner of his eye he notices Clarke shift uncomfortably, probably feeling like she shouldn’t be a part of that conversation. 

He wants to look at her, tell her that he doesn’t want her to leave but his mom glances at her, suggesting that she gives them some space and Clarke’s up on her feet before he can say anything.

His heart clenches at the sight of her going and he doesn’t understand why does something in his chest grow a bit more heavy when she grabs her school bad ant puts her jacket on.

“I should go. I have to study for my project with Josephine. We’re supposed to finally present it tomorrow.”

He clears his throat and feels himself blush-she was right, she had her life and she had already helped him more than enough. 

God knows how much time she lost hanging here, helping him out, asking Jackson to come by-it was a lot and she shouldn’t have to deal with that.

“Of course. Thanks for coming.” he mumbles quietly and buries himself lower in the pillows once more. 

He doesn’t expect her to do anything to say goodbye so when she leans closer and kisses his cheek-a small and quick one that however leaves him burning up harder than he was before as it had nothing to do with his infection, he can’t be more surprised.

“I’ll drop by again tomorrow.” she promises and he opens his mouth to fight and tell her that she shouldn’t bother but before he can she turns to his mom “But call me if you guys need something.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll walk you out.” she stands up as well and heads to the door to send her off.

He uses the time to move the tray away with his good hand but instead he ends up almost dropping it, splashing soup all over the floor. 

He tries to sit up and fix it but the minute he swings his legs off the bed and his feet touch the floor, his whole body sways to the left and he tries to steady himself by gripping the bed board.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ll tear your stitches!” his mom scolds the minute she comes back and before he can protest, not that he has the strength to really, she’s pushing him to lay down and covering him with the blankets.

“I was just trying to put the tray on the night stand.” he explains but she’s angry now. 

Scratch that, she has been angry at him the entire time, from the moment he woke up she was a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” she comments when she feels his forehead with her hand and upon finding it hot, she forces him to take a couple of pills with some water.

“You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Mom, I know you’re angry.” he starts off knowing there’s no running away form this conversation.

“You should rest.”

“No, we have to talk about it.” he reaches to take her hand and pull her down before she can leave even if it makes his arm burn with pain. “You’re mad. You have every right to be.”

“You’re right-” she finally speaks up and he forces himself to withstand her harsh look because he owes her that much “I am angry. Murphy told me the truth that night-that you guys were trying to steal from the Lightbournes. That you’ve been doing it for a while.” he swallows hard “Is it true?”

“Yes it is.” he says wincing and she pulls her hand away from him. 

He can see how conflicted she is-she wants to yell at him, be angry with him but he was also hurt so she probably felt guilty doing so.

“Why?” she finally asks after a minute they spent in silence “I just don’t understand.” he shrugs at that and picks a lose strand of the blanket to twist between his fingers.

“It was just easier.” he admits “I didn’t have to work long hours or bust my ass to earn enough for a week worth of groceries. I could do it all and get even more in just a few hours.”

“I didn’t raise you like that.” her voice cracks at that and when he looks at her he sees the tears in her angry brown eyes trying so hard not to spill away. “This isn’t who you are, Bellamy.”

“I know.” he whispers because he doesn’t have the strength to speak it out, worried that his voice will break and his own heart will not be strong enough to compose itself enough for him not to cry as well.

“But I became it.” he fists the blanket “I became a monster.”

She swallows hard and looks away refusing to meet his eyes but what actually kills him, is the complete and utter disappointment that he can feel emanate from her. 

He has actually managed to reach a point where he destroyed his mother in a way he never thought he could-he made her ashamed of who he was, of her own son. 

The night he went down that way with Murphy, heading to Anya’s place, he had been desperate but determined-he didn’t care what happens to himself, he had been that selfish. 

The only thing in his head back then was that he had to get money and help his mother but he didn’t stop for a minute to think what this would do to her.

She had always tried to do right by him. 

When he was a boy she would sit with him after work and read with him, teach him to write, count, everything she could. 

School had to be his number one priority and as he grew he found himself enjoying studying and bringing home good grades. 

He was a smart intelligent kid, a fast learner and he made her proud. 

When Octavia had come along, he made her chest swell even more-he was such a good brother. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night and help her change her or put her to bed. 

Then babysit her all the time after school so she didn’t have to stay with her while she was at work. 

The more he grew, the more responsibilities he took on and maybe that had been her mistake-not putting a stop to it, but she never thought he’d start working for the woman who ruined so many young lives in their neighborhood.

And yet it also made sense to her-he had the biggest heart, always wanted to do the right thing no matter the cost, but it still hurt and for some reason she couldn’t stop feeling betrayed.

He doesn’t know what hurts more-the fact that she refuses to look at him because of how disgusted she is with him or that she won’t say anything back, won’t contradict him and tell him he’s wrong by which she essentially agreed with his statement.

It hurts more than the wound in his shoulder, more than any physical pain he has ever felt but when another shiver runs down through his body he uses it to squeeze his eyes shut, command his breathing and get himself together.

It’s nothing he hasn’t told himself before and at least there were no lies between them now-his mom saw him for who he was, the real him, not the boy she dreamed him to be and that would never change again.

She’d look at him and tell him she loves him maybe, if she finds it in his heart again to meet his eyes and not completely hate everything that he has done, maybe she could one day understand it but…the fact remained that they had enough hurt in their lives as it was. 

His mom…she carried more than anyone ever should.

She was sick and taking care of two kids that were too much to handle yet she never stopped to second guess her choices or think about abandoning them-no, she worked hard, she paid attention to them, try to educate them, provide them with everything they needed even when it was hard. 

He remembers how little she ate some nights when they didn’t have enough food just so they wouldn’t be starving or how she pressed them to her body and tried to keep them warm on the coldest of nights.

Yet she never thought of going to someone like Anya, never believed in earning her money in a dishonest way.

He had disgraced them and she had every right not to ever get over it.

“Why did you send O to our aunt?” he asks after a while, struggling to keep himself still as the pain grew stronger.

“It’s better for her there now. I didn’t want her to see you like this, to worry or be scared.” he nods, she was right about that and it’s not like Octavia was in another town-their aunt, his mother’s sister, lived in Hydra, a neighborhood just half an hour away form them. 

It was a good place, mostly filled with one story houses owned by middle class people. 

Their aunt was a worker in a teacher in elementary school, her husband had died just a few years ago and her son was in the army-she was alone and she had the means to take care of Octavia until things settled. 

Moreover, she loved the kid. 

She had always had her reserves towards Bellamy, maybe she felt that there was something wrong and dark in him, but she adored Octavia so at least he knew his sister was safe and loved.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks next after he overcomes yet another bout of severe pain. 

This time he can’t hide it, though, his body twists violently under the blankets but when she reaches to cup his cheek and steady him he escapes her grip and waits for it to pass.

“Are you taking your medication?” he asks once he manages to catch his breath.

“I am. I feel better now.” there was some color to her cheeks and she seemed to be stable on her feet from what he could see but she was still sick and she needed to rest, not take care of a kid who got shot because he was dumb enough to get himself in trouble. 

“You should get some rest.” she says again like she did before Clarke left and stands up to leave.

He chokes up on the words he wants to say, thinking how just a few days ago he was in a cell, begging to be held by his mom before he bleeds out and now he couldn’t really talk to her.

“Mom, I…-” he starts and she turns to look at him. There’s still so much pain and disappointment in her eyes all of which were caused by him. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, simply crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a light nod.

“So am I, Bellamy.” she turns around to grab the door handle again but changes her mind last minute. For a moment she stays with her back to him before she faces him again.

“I was going to wait for you to get better before we talked but since you already started it-” taking in a deep breath she rubs her forehead with her hand “When you get better I want you to go back to school.” he wants to protest at that, tell her that he needs to work but she knows him well enough to read his thoughts.

“Your aunt gave us a loan so we’ll be okay for a month or two, enough for us to get back on our feet. I’ve asked around and there’s a small shop downtown that makes works clothes for the factories in the state and they’re hiring.”

He sighs, hating everything that was happening right now-it was supposed to be him-he should be taking care of her and his sister. 

He didn’t want his mom working long hours again just so they could go right back to where they started. The thought terrified him.

“Are you sure that you’ll be fine?”

“I talked to the manager, I can do six hours there and work at home on the days I don’t feel so well.” 

“That sounds good.” he says and he feels miles away from home, he hates himself and what he’s done to his family “I want to help too.”

Aurora shakes her head at him and takes a step forward.

“It will take a while for your arm to heal. Jackson said the bullet hit a bundle of nerves.”

“It will be fine.” he says but she ignores his words. “I’ll find something easy for a start.”

Aurora sighs at that, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

“Mom, I just didn’t want you to worry.” she doesn’t say anything to that either, maybe she doesn’t know what or maybe it’s because his excuse comes out weaker than he thought it was.

“There’s also something else.” she leans on the bed board near his feet and takes in a few deep breaths. 

He furrows his eyebrows at the change of her behavior-she wasn’t cold or disappointed anymore-there was something else, something more fucked up.

“What is it?” he asks raisin himself on his good elbow and leaning on the pillows so that he was sitting again.

“You need to start taking medicine for your heart.” her voice breaks at that and finally she looks up and meets his eyes. 

Her bottom lip’s trembling and she’s about to cry but he forces himself to stay calm. 

This isn’t anything new to him-when she decided to get him and Octavia tested two years ago and found out she had given him her disease, he hadn’t known how to react but he was strangely calm about it. 

The worse she got, the more he realized that one day that will be him but he ignored it to take care of her.

He just refused to deal with it.

That’s one of the reasons why he hated doctors. 

Back then they insisted he started coming for check ups too, get him on some light blood pressure medications. 

His condition wasn’t a serious one then-it’s true that sometimes his heart beat too fast and out of rhythm, he could feel it himself or that when he ran, he was too short of breath, but he was okay. 

So though his mom insisted he went in for a check up at least once a month, he wouldn’t listen. 

Skipped his appointments, kept insisting that everything was as before they found out. 

Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain in his chest like he had so often seen happen with his mom and he was scared then, but he never told her, even when it started happening more often.

“Why? I don’t feel bad.” he opposes and watches her furrow her eyebrows at his behavior.

“Your blood pressure’s too high and your heart doesn’t sound good to him.” she swallows hard “He wants to take you to the hospital as well, run some tests.”

“No.”

“Bellamy, now is not the time to be stubborn. Not about this.”

“I’m not trying to be.” he raises his voice and he feels himself grow really tired, like when he was back in the cell and he passed out in Murphy’s arms. “I’ll go back to school, find a good job but I won’t….” he shakes his head “I won’t do any of that.”

“Bellamy, do you realize what can happen here? You can actually get worse and fast if we don’t control this.” she grips the board and her knuckles go white 

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I won’t do it, mom.” he insists gritting his teeth stubbornly.

“Goddammit, Bellamy it’s not up to you! You’re still a minor and I’m responsible for you so if I say you go to the hospital for tests, you goddamn do it.”

“I turn eighteen in just a few months, you know you can’t control this.”

“Why are you being like that now? What are you so afraid of?” he deflates at that but doesn’t speak up, not sure what else he can say to convince her of his stance.

“Haven’t you learned how important it is to take care of that by now?” she means herself, he has seen her go through hell, have nights when she was barely breathing or looked like she’s dead.

“It’s exactly because I’ve seen it that I don’t want to do this.” he bites back and straightens his body but the movement makes the pain in his shoulder worse so he groans and falls back on the pillows. “I won’t be their lab rat. I won’t let them prod me with needles or make me go through pointless surgeries.”

“Bellamy 18% of the teenagers with this disease have a high risk of suffering a heart attack and dying.” he doesn’t react to that in any way which pisses her off more than he’s sure she cares to admit. “Don’t you care about that?”

“Mom…I know you’re scared but I feel fine.” he says trying to sound as calm as he can “Whatever Jackson worries about it’s probably because of the wound.”

“Bullshit, I have seen you come home after school, face red and struggling to breathe, I have hugged you and felt how fast your heart beats. Bellamy, I’m your mother, I know when things aren’t alright with you.”

“So you could worry about my heart but you can’t understand why I did what I did?” he asks and that in turn makes her wince and shake her head at his words.

“Those are two completely different things.”

“No, they’re not. I stole because I wanted us to have a better life, because you needed help and medicine and as ashamed of me as you might be, trust me, it’s ten times worse for me but I’d do it again if I could.”

“Bellamy-”

“I’m tired and you’re right, I should get some sleep before Jackson comes.” he cuts her off and rolls on his good side, closing his eyes and pulling the blanket up, refusing to meet her eyes again.

She sighs but doesn’t leave the room right away, instead she lingers for a while and comes to sit by the side of the bed and place her hand on his shoulder. 

He wants to shrug her off, tell her there’s no need for her to feel bad about this but he doesn’t have the strength to. 

He feels his fever rage through, his body shiver and all that he wants to do is forget any of this ever happened-the shooting, him getting in jail, the disappointed look on his mom’s face.

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall despite the pain in his shoulder and the burning feeling of his bruised ribs. 

The last thing he feels is his mom’s lips on his forehead and he whispering something that sounded a lot like “I love you, kid.” or at least that’s what he wanted it to be.


	5. You tried to put me back together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know not many people are reading this but I appreciate every one of you!
> 
> You can find me on Tumlbr @jasperjoordan

Clarke’s been coming by the Blake’s house every day since he woke up.

At first she was afraid she might be too annoying-after all, she barely knew them and she had already done her job-helped them bail Bellamy out and brought Jackson in to help, but the truth was, she was feeling alone. 

With her mom off to rehab for the foreseeable future and her dad burying himself in work, all she had left was studying. 

But whenever she came to Arkadia, she was transformed into a different world-despite the Blake’s problems, despite their poverty, their lack of food or basic necessities, she was always welcomed into a home filled with warmth, something she’s been missing ever since her mom’s alcohol addiction started when she entered high school and her dad got used to hiding in his room or taking long work trips for weeks or even months away from home.

She felt as if she was freeloading off their love and friendship at first, so she tried to compensate it with always bringing something in whenever she came. 

She casually passed by the grocery store and thought she could get a few things so Aurora can make her famous chicken soup she always bragged about or she found a few of her old dad’s shirts that he no longer used that maybe would fit Bellamy. 

Aurora didn’t mind any of that but the more time Clarke spent with Bellamy, the more she realized how he always noticed those things and though he always threw her an angry look especially when he was in pain, he never commented on it-was it because his mom told him to behave or because he was feeling guilty, she didn’t know but she didn’t dare say a thing.

It’s been barely a week since she adopted the habit of passing by their house after school and staying in till it was time for dinner but it felt like years to her.

And the more time she spent with them, the more she got to know Bellamy Blake.

She found out he liked fighting everyone on everything concerning his own well-being-not just her, but his mom and Jackson as well. 

It was always a pain whenever he had to have his bandage changed and he refused to wear his sling. 

Since his infection still left him mostly weak and bed ridden, he was angrier and impatient, insisting that he could walk himself to the bathroom or the kitchen even when he swayed on his feet.

But there was another side of him too-a softer one, the non-fighter one which she caught on rare occasions but which made Clarke’s head tilt to the side, lean on the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest and take a minute or two observing him.

_Bellamy Blake rarely allowed himself peace._

When he was awake and fighting them, he looked so tired, as if he was holding the world on his shoulders. 

Even his whole stance changed, he was hunched, his eyes got a darker shade of brown, the circles surrounding them made him look as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

He loved walking around the place half naked and she had to try very hard not to stare too hard at his chest. 

Though the house was mostly cold, he didn’t like wearing socks either and on the occasions his mom would scold him about it, he’d find a pair that never matched and be grumpy about it until his mom left him alone and he could take them off.

He liked reading but he didn’t have that many books. 

However, as she found out from Aurora, he was a frequent visitor at the local library and when she went there one day to pick him a few stuff so he wouldn’t go completely crazy, she was surprised to find the librarian Maya greeting them and helping them get books he won’t completely destroy with his critical opinion.

He had shitty vision but he hated using glasses and she’d come by his room and find him with the book pressed so close to his face she’d laugh at him but because he was still sick she found him asleep with the book sprayed on his chest more often than not.

When O visited them from their aunt’s place she’d beg him incessantly to read to her until he caved and always indulged her in her ridiculous play games no matter how tired he was but also insist she does her homework and help her study.

He hated that his mom had started working again, even if from home, would get so grumpy he wouldn’t talk when he had to watch her go around the house and cook for him or help him with walk to the couch. 

There was obviously tension between them that couldn’t have been there before the accident, or so Clarke though, because Aurora would fight with him all the time and he’d get quiet and cold like the boy she met on the night he tried to steal her car.

“Hey, Clarke” Aurora opens the door for her late on a Friday afternoon, welcoming her with a smile. 

She surely looked a lot better than when Clarke had first met her but she wasn’t stupid-she was still very sick and more often than not she’d fall asleep on the couch while Bellamy and Clarke were talking in his room or playing chess in the kitchen. 

“You’re right on time-” she sighs when she lets her in “He’s in the kitchen and he’s really grumpy but I have to go run some errands.”

She takes off her jacket and hangs it near the door before she follows Aurora.

“He’s still feverish?” Aurora nods quietly, her face bearing the mark of a mother who spend the last hour fighting with her stubborn boy “Jackson came by last night to check on him.”

“I thought the antibiotics were supposed to work.”

“So did I but Jackson wanted to start him on new ones, said these may not be strong enough to fight it off completely.” they make their way in and find him half slumped on a chair, his arm held up by the sling he so stubbornly refused to wear all the time, his hair falling over his head, cheeks red, his eyes sleepy. He must’ve recently woken up. 

“Look who’s here.”

“Great, the princess made her daily appearance in the gutter.” he mumbles and Clarke looks away but stifles her groan while Aurora comes behind him and slaps his neck in a light but scolding manner.

“Bellamy, behave.” he grunts and Clarke puts on the notebooks she was carrying in hand as well as a small brown paper bag on the table. “What did you bring again?”

“Just a few muffins. I was craving something sweet after school but I thought we could share.” she always made an excuse with herself no matter what she brought by-she wanted to try out Aurora’s soup so she brought the ingredients, she was thinking of playing board games with Octavia so she brought a bunch of her old toys and dolls for her to play with (as well as a bunch of clothes), her English teacher suggested this book to read so she got it and thought Bellamy might find it interesting. 

The fact that she never picked any of those stuff back but instead left them here for them to use was something neither one of them acknowledged.

“Of course you did.” Bellamy comments again but when she takes them out of the bag he reaches for the chocolate one only to have his hand slapped by his mother.

“Soup first. You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“So now I can eat a muffin cause the princess brought it.”

“Bellamy-” she says threateningly and he sighs but picks up the spoon abandoned in the bowl before him and shoves some in his mouth.

“I’m tired of fucking soup.”

“Well that’s too bad-you’re sick and you need it!” Aurora cuts him off and it comes out colder than Clarke’s sure she intended but the tension that’s been so often present around them whenever she came by, consumed them all at once 

“And don’t curse in my house!”

She takes her old black jacket and puts it on as he keeps eyeing Clarke eating her muffin while he sadly sips on his soup like a five year old who just can’t have ice cream.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. I need to get us a few things.” Aurora comes by and touches his forehead with her hand and when he tries to move away, because he always did, she steadies his chin and forces him to stay still.

“Will you stop treating me like a child, checking my temperature every five seconds?”

“No.” she sighs and her forehead creases with worry “You already act like a baby so I don’t have to do much here, really.” Clarke smiles at that fondly because as awful as everything in their lives is, those small family moments made her heart ache with warmth. 

Aurora worried for her son in ways Abby never had about her. 

Even when she got sick, it was always her dad who stayed with her late at night and on the rare occasions she was there it felt more like it was out of obligation than because she actually wanted it. 

She was methodical, cold as if she was examining a patient she knew nothing about and not trying to help her daughter’s cough or bring her fever down. 

In the few times Aurora had touched Clarke’s shoulder and even once, pulled her in a hug-that had been on the night that Bellamy got hurt, she felt more like being embraced by a mom than she ever had.

“When you’re done with this you go straight to bed, okay?” Aurora orders before she kisses his forehead and grabs her purse “If he’s a pain, you have my permission to kick his butt.” she tells Clarke who smiles at that and watches her leave.

The moment the door closes, Bellamy pulls the bowl away and grabs a muffin, stuffing his face impatiently.

“Oh god, you really are five.”

“Shut up, princess. What do you got there?” he reaches for her books, picks on the top one and squints his eyes at the title though it was written in large letters 

“Anna Karenina” he comments mockingly “Someone picked Russian literature like I suggested.” she shrugs at that and snatches the book away.

“Only because Japanese was full.”

“Like you need that shit.” he waves his hand at her and moves his legs to rest on the chair next to him “I don’t get it why you rich folks have this urge to learn these complicated languages when you can dive in the beauty of the classics.”

“You’ve read it?” she asks ignoring his comment about her social status and he smirks in his cocky Bellamy way.

 _“I think…if it’s true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.”_ he quotes dramatically and though he smiles and probably means all this as a joke, her eyes are pinned on the way his lips move, notice the fire in his eyes, the passion with which he utters the words. 

“Of course I’ve read it, princess.”

She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the feeling of her heart being stuck in her throat for a moment.

“Then maybe you can help me when the assignments come.” he chuckles and the serious mood of the room evaporates with the sound. 

He’s barely ever laughed for as long as she’s knowing him and even now, in this state, she has no idea how he has it in him, despite the fever, the pain, to find it in himself to do it but here he is, the smug bastard, resting on two chairs in all his bad boy glory-with a plaid shirt hanging from his strong arms revealing his bandages chest, his arm pressed to his side, his hair sticking in every direction and he was _so beautiful and so fucked up at the same time._

“I knew you had an agenda, princess.” he jokes and waves his hand in her direction “Let me see what else you got there.” she hands him the books and he hmms in approval or groans in disapproval at her choices but always explains why he dislikes something like _“Hemingway was an old drunk who had no idea what he was talking about.”_ or _“There’s this sadness in Fitzgerald that not everyone can find out under all that beautiful writing. Let’s see if you will, princess.”_

He is tired, that much she can tell and the flush of his cheeks grows which worries her.

“Want to play a game of chess?” he asks but she shakes her head sad to have to disappoint him “Your mom’s right, you should really go to bed.”

“I’m sick of that” when he says it she acknowledges it’s one of his stubborn bouts but she can’t help but feel the desperation in his voice too “Can we go outside.”

“Most definitely no.” he must’ve sensed her hesitation if he even dares suggest that.

“The porch at least?” he begs again “I haven’t been out in a week.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“My mom and Jackson are just being too cautious. I’m fine. I don’t even feel bad.” she raises her eyebrow at that and to prove his point he stands up and though he doesn’t sway on his feet, he does lean on the table using his good arm a bit too much.

“See?”

“Bellamy-”

“Clarke, please.”

She looks in his eyes, sees how much this is weighing on him. Maybe if he got some fresh air, he wouldn’t be so stubbornly fighting them all the time or at least that logic made sense in her head.

“Fine, but it’s cold out. You need a jacket.”

“Ah, I’ll be fine.” he waves his hand as he starts slowly walking to the door of the kitchen that would lead them on the back porch of the house that also opened up to a small garden that he and O once played football or basketball or even had a small pool to play in during the summer.

“Bellamy no, if your mom finds out I let you out with nothing but a plaid shirt on that’s not even buttoned, she’ll have my head.” she says standing in his way and taking way too much time pointedly staring at his naked chest which makes him smirk and in turn results in her slapping his chest.

“Ouch!” he says but she knows he’s overreacting because the smile never leaves his face. 

Still, his hand ends up over his heart where she hit him for dramatic effect.

“The jacket?” she insists and at that his mouth drops and he stands up a bit straighter.

“I don’t have one. But there’s a sweater in my room.”

“Why don’t you have a-”

“I sold it for money so I could buy food a while ago.” he cuts off, the mood in the room changing in the span of mere seconds. 

“It’s not a big deal.” she nods, and though inside she feels like screaming-at their live, their awful situation, she has to get over it simply because this was about Bellamy and not her.

“I’ll get the sweater.” he mumbles a quiet thank you and when she comes outside she finds him sitting on the wooden bench they had there and staring right ahead, buried in thoughts.

He’s so lost in it, he doesn’t hear her come out, but then she helps him put the sweater on-as much as he can with his arm fucked up and though she notices him still shivering, she sits by his side, a bit too close to be friendly, mostly because she’s afraid he might feel worse and she has to be there to help him.

“So, did your dad come home?” he asks happily diverging the subject from him to her.

“He’ll be back on Monday, I think.”

“He travels a lot, huh?” she nods at that and clenches her jaw to keep her feelings in tact “Must be kind of scary-” she looks confused at him so he elaborates “Being in that house all on your own.”

“It wasn’t until someone tried to steal my car.” he stiffens next to her but when she nudges him with her elbow and gives him a smile he relaxes “It’s not as scary as it is lonely.” she admits, surprised that she’s able to speak it out loud.

He hmms and rests his back on the wall, closing his eyes for a brief minute, probably undergoing another bout of pain considering the way his face twists.

“I know some about that.”

“You have your mom, Octavia” she offers but he shrugs.

“I know but…it’s not-…I don’t know how to explain it.”

“The guy who had read half the library in his neighborhood is at a loss of words?” she jokes to lighten the mood and he smiles but just barely. 

“I’m kidding. What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love them both but-” he swallows hard “Life’s always been hard for us” her heart clenches at that “I’ve done everything I can to help mom and I always will but I think she has those dreams for me, she wants things that simply can’t happen.”

“And you?”

“I just want us to have enough food for dinner.” he says with a simple smile “And I’ve done bad things to get that. Things she won’t ever forgive or even try to understand.” she nods, seeing quite clearly where he’s going with that. 

Aurora might be angry at his stubbornness these days, something she wasn’t trying to hide, but there was also something else in her eyes and the way she treated him, something she could recognize quite well from her own relationship with Abby.

“She’s disappointed in you.” she speaks out and his head snaps at her surprised that she gets what he’s talking about. “I know some about that.”

“Your parents can’t possibly be disappointed in you, Clarke.” it’s the first time he speaks her name since the night he came looking for her help for her mom and it’s her turn to be surprised. 

“You’re a straight A student, you do extra circulars, study hard all the time. You’ll get in a good college, be a kick ass doctor.”

“If I even decide to go to med school.” she corrects and he smiles teasingly which only suggests he made the mistake on purpose in the first place.

“I don’t know, Griffin. I think you might be wrong about that.”

“About what?”

“I think deep down you want to be a doctor.” he says quietly, thinking his words carefully “You’re good at it.” she raises her eyebrow at that and smiles.

“Is Bellamy Blake actually giving me a compliment?” he jabs her ribs with his good hand and because she’s very ticklish, she jumps at the movement and that makes him smile like the devil.

“I’ve seen you help Jackson, princess. You get this light in your eyes whenever he lets you do something on your own-you want this.”she huffs at him being able to read her like that before he keeps going.

“Fine,be stubborn all you want, but I’m right.”

“Look who’s talking.” he leans his head back again and closes his eyes.

“I don’t know what the deal with your mother is but…I don’t think it should stop you from doing what you clearly enjoy.” he says quietly but doesn’t open up his eyes when he says it and when she looks up and studies him curiously.

“You are your own person, Clarke. Allow yourself to be this person.”

She lets the words sink in and for a while she stares at the empty space before them. 

It’s quite cold-the sky is grey and it had started just barely raining just when they came outside. 

The drops falling on the roof above them seems to calm Bellamy’s anxiety of being trapped up at least for a bit and she lets herself join him in this moment of peace at least until she feels his body shake really hard next to her and she turns to find him gritting his teeth and trying not to seem too embarrassing.

“You’re cold.” she says as she stands up and takes her jacket off only so she could move him enough to throw it over his shoulders. 

He grunts, tries to fight her but her sharp and determined movements don’t let him win this one. 

She obviously can’t zip it up considering it’s three sizes smaller than what he probably wears but she hopes it can bring some warmth to him despite that.

“It’s not that…it’s the fever.” he whispers when his eyes fall to her hand wrapped around her jacket that she’s desperately trying to pull closer around his neck. 

When he says that her fingers move to his forehead and as much as he hates it, he doesn’t fight her when she feels it burn under her touch which means he’s probably really tired.

“We should get you inside before your mom comes home and feeds me to the wolves for agreeing to this.” he smiles but lets her help him up to his feet and when she easily slides her arm to his back in order to support him he lets her guide him to his room.

“Thanks for indulging me.” he says when she helps him sit on the bed but before he can lay down, he sways again and falls forward. 

She’s fast enough to catch him and for a second too long they are so close to one another, breathing into each other’s faces and looking into each other’s eyes before he gives her his teasing smirk and she remembers to pull away.

“You don’t need that one anymore.” she takes off her jacket off his shoulders and pushes him down to the pillows. 

He falls with a groan and his good hands shoots to grip his arm. Her fingers hover over his but he shakes his head before she can cover it in support.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” she pulls the blankets over him and when he closes his eyes she decides that this is it-he’d probably fall asleep but then he speaks up.

“I know I pretend to be a dick about it but…I really appreciate you coming by, princess.” she smiles and though he only opens his eyes halfway he must see it. 

“You shouldn’t be alone in that house.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Hey, that’s usually my line.” he jokes and she tilts her head at him fondly “I mean it, though…I know we haven’t known each other too long but you’re welcomed here. Always.”

She doesn’t really know what to say to that-it’s the first time someone says something like this and sounds so genuine about it. 

There was that side of him again that was the reason she refused to call the police on him-that softness in his brown eyes, that genuine smile, the quiet and shy nod he gives her before he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep two seconds after he drops that bomb on her because he doesn’t look for anything in return-he doesn’t expect a response. 

He doesn’t even want anyone to know that this part of him exist because he can’t let the world see the truth about him-that his heart was big and kind, that he cared so much more about others that he ever did about himself. 

That he was willing to let his mom be disappointed in him, scold him more than necessarily, blame him for making the wrong choices, if it meant he could give them what they didn’t have at the moment.

“Thank you.” she whispers but he’s indeed already quietly snoring and with a smile she closes the door of his room just when the front one opens and Aurora comes in almost soaking wet, hiding a big paper back full of groceries under her jacket.

Clarke helps her carry it all to the kitchen where she starts taking the things Aurora brought while she completely forgets about them and instead pulls out a small brown paper bag and takes out its contents as she sits on the chair.

“I thought you already bought your medicine?” Clarke asks when she puts the oatmeal in the cupboard above the fridge knowing Bellamy isn’t going to be happy having that for breakfast. 

She can already imagine his grumpy face when he has to fill his poor old bowl and pick his spoon under his mom’s stern look.

“Those are for Bellamy.” Aurora responds absent minded as she reads through the receipts and picks up the four orange bottles to check the names and what they say.

“For the fever? But Jackson hadn’t been here yet-” Clarke seems confused. 

When they talked earlier she was left with the impression that the doctor wanted to try out different antibiotics but that he hadn’t yet prescribed them. 

She wondered where Aurora got the money for all these-the fridge got half filled-more so than she’s ever seen it since she started coming by and those pills surely couldn’t have been cheap.

“They’re not for his shoulder” Aurora says flipping the paper back and forth, reading through the directions “They’re for his heart.”

Clarke stops dead in her spot and slowly turns around but the older woman is too busy with the pills, probably reading through the side effects and how they should be used. 

She seemed worried, way too worried, her hands shook and her lips were pursed in a determined way, the way a mom looked when she was ready to beat the hell out of whatever was torturing her kid and wrap him safely in her arms.

“I’m not sure I get what you mean.” Clarke finally manages to utter, voice completely devastated, refusing to let her mind run faster than her heart. 

This can’t be what’s happening, it won’t be true, she thinks and yet Jackson’s words from the first time they came by this house made their way at the back of her mind.

“I feel bad for those kids.” he had said on the way home.

“How come?”

“There’s 90% chance that she gave what she has to at least one of them. If I was her I’d get them tested.”

Aurora finally moves her head up, dropping her hands that are still gripping the paper to the table as she studies her face. 

When she realizes Clarke really has no idea what she’s talking about, her mouth falls a little and her features soften.

“Bellamy has my disease” she lets the words Clarke refused to believe could be true but for a moment there they simply stare at each other in complete silence before Clarke remembers her surroundings and carefully sits on the chair next to her, the same one Bellamy occupied only an hour ago.

“I’m sorry, I thought Jackson told you.”

“He didn’t” she finally manages to say and tries to get herself together as she realizes that this wasn’t about her at all-here was this mother, this sick woman who worked and tried to do the best for her kids, worrying over her son who as it just turned out, was also sick-and she was acting like someone told her she’s having an incurable heart disease.

”I mean he mentioned it was genetic but I thought you…didn’t know.”

“I had him tested two years ago when I got a call at work from his school.” Aurora breathes out, seemingly trying to distract them from the somber moment but her eyes fall back on the orange bottles and Clarke swears she can see her shiver when she looks at them.

“He was training basketball back then and had passed out during practice.” Clarke swallows hard, not sure what to say to that so she just lets her speak “By the time I got there he was awake but very weak and when I saw his face-all pale and the way he struggled to breathe I…” she fists her hand and Clarke reaches to touch her while she composes herself.

“I think I knew…maybe I had always known but I was living in denial.”

“Because he seemed fine?” Clarke tries helping out and Aurora nods.

“I mean there were times when I hugged him and I could feel his heart beat really loud and when he ran he was almost always out of breath and took forever to get it back to normal but I just thought it was normal.”

“Until it wasn’t.” she grits her teeth and looks away and Clarke can feel the anger coarse through her-this wasn’t fair, not at all “How did you convince him to get tested?”

“He was too weak back then and I didn’t want to waste a minute so I just picked Octavia from kindergarten that same day and took them both to the hospital to get them tested. When the results came in and the doctor talked to us both, Bellamy acted like nothing has changed.” she shakes her head.

“I actually think he still does. He completely ignored it, said he felt fine. I made him go to the first couple of check ups but then he’d say he’d go alone and lie to me or throw his pills away until things got worse for us financially and I just let it slip through the cracks altogether.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” Clarke tries to comfort her by covering her hand with hers, unclenching her fist and squeezing it hard. “You tried really hard.”

“I should’ve tried harder.” Aurora says coldly, clearly blaming herself and then she laughs sadly ”You know what he said to me that day at the hospital? He said _“I’m glad it’s me and not Octavia. I don’t think either one of us could’ve handled that.”_ the tears threaten to fall down her face but before they can she brushes them away angrily and tries to compose herself.

“That stupid boy.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself.” Clarke pulls her chair closer and gives her a short hug that should feel awkward in their positions but it’s actually quite heartwarming. 

“So did Jackson find something?” she asks when Aurora has managed to dab away the tears from her cheeks and clear her throat only to give her a small nod which in turn makes Clarke’s heart clench.

“The night of the accident after you and Murphy were gone and it was just me and him…I noticed how he furrowed his eyebrows when he was listening to his chest. He asked me to help roll him to the side so he could hear better and by the way he bit his lip I just knew so I asked him.” Aurora stands up then, not being able to stay still anymore, desperate to do something with her hands while she talked about it and Clarke couldn’t blame her. 

Though she went around the kitchen and mindlessly opened cabinets until she remembered the tea was in the cupboard above the sink which is when she had managed to find it in her to continue.

“He said his heart doesn’t sound good but it may be like that now because of the trauma he suffered, the blood loss.” she puts the kettle on the cooker after pouring some water from the sink.

“He asked me if I knew whether or not any of the kids had my disease and when I told him about Bellamy I think both he and I realized that it wasn’t just the wound that made it so hard for him to breathe.”

Clarke contemplates on her words and she tries to look at her but judging by the way she was staying with her back to the table, busying herself with the tea, she realized it must be really hard for her to talk about it.

“So now what?” Aurora shrugs her shoulders and finally places a cup on the table for her before she finally joins her on the chair, covering her forehead with her hand and rubbing it tiredly.

“He wants to do tests, gave me a prescription for all these things” she gestures at the orange bottles “I only have to make him take them now.”

“He refuses to?” Clarke asks confused to which Aurora gives a light nod “But…this makes no sense, he knows how serious this is!”

“He does but he won’t hear it. I’ve been fighting him about it for days. Jackson tried to talk to him as well but he keeps saying no-he won’t go to the hospital for testing, he won’t take the medication. Claims he’s feeling fine and he’s just wobbly because of the wound but that it will pass.”

“This is ridiculous!” Clarke’s fists hit the table with a bit more force than she anticipated which surprises even her and coincides with the moment the kettle boils and makes both her and Aurora jump. 

She jumps off to get it and pour them both some tea so the woman doesn’t have to exert herself too much. 

Clarke could notice even how shallow her breathing was and she didn’t need any medical equipment to confirm that the short walk outside combined with the work she did in the morning has taken its toll on her. 

“But he’s still a minor, isn’t he? So you make all the decisions.”

“Jackson said the same thing and though I may be able to drag him to the hospital, I can’t force him to take the pills. He just won’t.”

Clarke covers her hand with hers once more and gives her a light smile.

“Let me try. I’m pretty good at convincing him to do stuff he doesn’t want to.”

“Thank you.” Aurora says genuinely and takes a sip of her tea “I mean it. You’ve been of great help.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Clarke looks away shyly but Aurora shakes her head with determination.

“It is.” she emphasizes by tightening her grip on Clarke’s hand. “Is your dad still away?” Clarke gives a tiny shrug at that and purses her lips “Then you’ll stay for dinner.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“You won’t be. You can help out, I’ll show you how to make my special mac and cheese if you want.” Clarke takes a moment to look at her, make sure that she means it and it’s not just her being polite but when she sees her genuine smile, she responds with the same and gives her an eager nod. “Good, then we should probably get on it. Do you think Bellamy is still asleep?”

Clarke’s about to say that she’ll go check on him but before she can there’s a knock on the door and both her and Aurora furrow their eyebrows in confusion.

“Maybe it’s Jackson.” Clarke suggests but for some unknown reason there’s a pit in her stomach that says otherwise, so she follows her to the door and when Aurora opens up, she’s greeted by a man Clarke’s never seen before. 

He’s carrying a big envelope, dressed in a suit and a nice winter coat over. 

His expression was grumpy and frustrated and he was looking around nervously, obviously aware that the neighborhood he was currently in didn’t have the best reputation.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Cage Wallace, I work with the courthouse downtown. I’m looking for Aurora and Bellamy Blake?”

“That’s me.” she confirms raising her eyebrows confused at the man. “Bellamy is my son. What is this about?”

He hands her the envelope in a completely detached and annoyed manner, like he couldn’t wait to get this over with.

“Your son’s been served but since my understanding is that he’s a minor you have to take the papers and sign-” he takes a bunch of papers from his black leather suitcase and turns it up so that it could be used as a solid surface for Aurora to use “here.”

“Served? What does this mean?” she asks instead her hand shaking mid air when he pushes the yellow manila envelope in her hand without giving her a second to think this through.

“Means someone…” he checks the names on his documents “in this case the Simone and Russel Lightbourne are pressing charges for uh-” he looks down again, reading backwards “theft and damage to the property.”

Aurora’s face grows pale and her hand shakes so bad, she drops the envelope on the ground. 

The man, Wallace, if Clarke remembers correctly, seems completely unabashed at her behavior, maybe considers it normal after doing this every day but he does look down at it briefly before he pushes his case in her direction again.

“Would you sign, I’m kind of in a rush here.” he says getting more annoyed at the situation and scoffing quietly but Aurora’s mouth is slightly dropped and she seems to be in shock so Clarke has to step in.

“Can you maybe give her a minute, this is a lot for her.” Clarke says when she puts her hand on Aurora’s arm and squeezes it in support but the guy just pushes the documents closer so that the case is almost hitting Aurora’s chest.

“Please sign. You’re not the only place I need to visit today.” Aurora carefully picks up the pen he shoves in her face and signs the documents. 

Before they know it, the guy’s turning around and walking down the stairs leading to their front porch, cursing under his nose.

“Come on, let’s take a look inside.” Clarke suggests, slowly maneuvering Aurora back in and closing the door behind them.

“I don’t understand…” she mumbles when she tears the envelope up and turns the papers over so she can skim over the text “Why are they doing this?”

“He tried to steal their car.” Clarke points out carefully and peaks over her shoulder, reading through the documents “I guess it’s their way of fighting back.”

“But I…” Aurora is at a loss for words so she simply heads over to the couch and sits down completely devastated “What on earth are we going to do?”

“It’s fine, we’ll get him a lawyer. He never ended up actually stealing the car, it was an attempt so it can’t be that bad.” she says as she joins her on their old squeaky couch and takes the papers off her hand to read through them carefully “I’ll talk to my dad, he’ll help out.” Clarke reassures. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay” Aurora says but she still seems to be too confused and scared to say anything else so she just stares at her trembling hands and after a moment buries them in her hair and tries to take deep breaths in order to calm herself down.

If there was one thing that Clarke was certain about Aurora Blake, was that this woman was goddamn strong and she proved it once again in that moment. 

After taking a few minutes of composing herself while Clarke pretended that she couldn’t see her tears while reading through the document carefully. 

After a minute or two, Aurora moves away, brushes the tears from her face and looks at Clarke, giving her a quiet nod suggesting she’s fine.

“I’d appreciate you asking your father for help but I don’t think we can pay a real lawyer.” Clarke opens her mouth to fight her but Aurora doesn’t give her the chance to say anything else “I think we should go check on him, he’s been asleep too long.”

When they go there, they are surprised to find Bellamy awake, struggling under the blankets to find a more comfortable position. 

When he sees them there he tries to get it together as not to worry them, of course and when Clarke notices Aurora’s expression, she softly squeezes her hand and gives her a look suggesting she’s got this before she moves to his left side, grabs the wet cloth from the drawer and puts it on his burning forehead.

“Didn’t you sleep at all?” his mom asks but he doesn’t really give her a clear response, instead trying to move himself up a bit on the pillows but Clarke quickly pushes his chest down.

He’s too weak to fight her but he does manage to find the strength to speak up.

“Who was at the door?”

Aurora sighs behind her before she takes a few steps closer and leans on the bedside board.

“We have to tell you something.”


	6. But darling some things cannot be saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a longer chapter but I wanted to post it all out before we get to the hearing. Thank you so much for reading, it all truly means the world to me. Thank you for supporting me!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

Three days later they are in Thelonius Jaha and Associate’s office in Sanctum. 

Jaha was an old family friend and when Clarke explained the situation to her dad, he suggested that they went to him. 

He was a really good lawyer who used to work in a pretty big firm downtown but ever since Wells died, he left the corporate place and instead became a public defender.

Aurora had been relieved when Clarke came by the next day after they were served, offering to drive them to Jaha, explain the situation and let him take on Bellamy’s case. 

It was far better than any of the options they’ve had which were… _ **none.**_

Bellamy’s hearing was supposed to happen in just a week and he was still sick and wobbly on her feet even though the new antibiotics Jackson had given him, were finally kicking in. 

They couldn’t keep giving him any more pain killers though, as they were clearly affecting his heart beat, so his shoulder hurt almost all the time even when he was asleep in the rare moments that this happened.

When they delivered the news he had gotten even paler than he was before but then he had briefly closed his eyes, sat up in bed and gave his mom a sharp nod.

“It’s okay, mom.” he had said “I can take it.”

But Aurora didn’t want him to just accept this, she refused to let him give up. 

It was her that kept asking him questions about Anya, that night, what he and Murphy had been actually doing all those months, just so they could get a better grip of the story but he simply shook his head and refused to say anything.

“The less you know, the better.” or when he got too tired of her prodding him, it turned into a “I don’t know” until later it became a “I’m tired, mom, can you let me sleep?” which was his way of trying to get rid of her.

He hadn’t even wanted to go to Jaha and though he didn’t say anything with his mom there, he was helping Clarke with the dishes after dinner in all his one- armed glory when he quietly said.

“You can’t keep doing that, princess.”

“What’s that?”

“Saving me.” he had looked up at her as he passed her a dirty plate.

“Why not?” she had simply asked her voice defiant which had made him half smile.

“Because I’m not worth it.” she had been so stunned at his words that she dropped the plate in the sink but thankfully, by some kind of miracle, it hadn’t shattered.

She had stopped the water and turned to him, half leaning on the sink.

“Stop with this!” she had cut him off but he wasn’t facing her anymore “Stop with the self-pity and the guilt! You were in a difficult situation, you did something bad to save your family-you’re not a goddamn monster!”

He smiles sadly but he doesn’t say anything for a long while, so she decides he will just ignore it and angrily, she huffs, turns the water back on and gets back to washing the plates.

“You want to see only the good in people, princess.” he surprises her when he speaks up “But in some of us, you won’t find much and the only thing you’ll end up doing is get disappointed.”

Before she can fight him more on it, he reaches to briefly squeeze her elbow before he wobbles back to his room.

Now here they were in Jaha’s office and he was sitting between her and his mom, staring blankly somewhere ahead of him. 

He was wearing the new jacket his mom got for him. 

Well new was a loose term, she bought it from a thrift shop but it was fairly decent, black bomber jacket with a strange insignia on the left arm which reminded Clarke of astronauts and space. 

His arm was wrapped up in a sling that they insisted he put on and for once he didn’t fight them on it. 

He wore one of her dad’s old blue shirts, which she brought a few days back as well as black jeans, also courtesy of his mom but his shoes were still those old ones with the holes on the soles and she knew he was feeling embarrassed by them considering how he had his legs locked by the ankles and hidden under the wooden chair he was sitting on.

Jaha’s office was fairly simple and informal which she hoped would make Aurora and Bellamy feel less intimidated but judging by the way the woman’s hands slightly shook and Bellamy’s empty look, she felt like none of this, even her being there for support, was making it better.

Bellamy’s been quiet in the past few days, ever since their talk by sink and whenever she came by his room she found him asleep. 

He wasn’t even reading his books but he wasn’t fighting his mom on eating or Jackson when he came by to check on his injured shoulder. 

The only thing he still stubbornly refused to do was take his heart meds or go to the hospital for testing and she had no idea if he and Aurora had any kind of conversation about it all but it seemed they did judging by the way they barely talked to each other on the way here.

When Jaha had asked him to explain what had happened, he did so in just a few sentences-went there to steal a car, his plan failed, got caught by the police. 

So that left Aurora and her trying to fill in the blankets while he remained silent.

“Now considering you have a record already-” Jaha says skimming to his file and putting down notes in the blanks “We wouldn’t want to drag this since you’re turning eighteen soon and if this goes further you could go to jail and not juvy.”

“Is that really a possibility?” Aurora asks nervously “I mean he did try to steal but didn’t, so-”

“That doesn’t matter, he was caught at the crime scene, the police has reports of someone with his description stealing in the same neighborhood and as I said-” he flips through the pages again “He does have a record for theft.”

“It was just milk and eggs. He was thirteen, he didn’t know what he was doing.” Aurora tries to defend him while Bellamy just bows his head down, his cheeks red either from the shame or from the fact that he still hasn’t fully healed.

Or maybe it was also his heart, Clarke thought, remembering all the symptoms that could be found in someone with his disease, having previously done her research. 

Considering how he swayed on his feet on the way to her car and even now the way he breathed so fast and shallow, she could assume it was a factor in his general condition which made her mad for him being so stubborn.

“I know but as I said the judge won’t like the looks of it.” Jaha explains patiently.

“So what does that leave us with?” Clarke asks instead, trying to desperately find a plan they could work on.

“Well, there are other options. The police knows that underage kids don’t go around stealing cards unless someone else is pulling the strings” at that Bellamy’s head snaps and she finally sees some emotion in his eyes. 

“You could give them their name, anything you know about it.”

“No.” Bellamy cuts off and his mom turns angrily to him.

“Bellamy, this woman-”

“I said no.” he cuts off harshly sitting up straighter and wincing at the movement “I did it on my own. There was no one else.”

“The report says they arrested another boy with you-a John Murphy? We could call him in as a witness.” Bellamy shakes his head again at that.

“We’re leaving him out of this.”

“Bellamy, what on earth is going on with you!” Aurora bursts at that again, angrily clenching her hands in fists but he remains unaffected and just gives her a cold look, shaking his head.

“Murphy could help! You could both expose her, get away with it all.”

“Murphy’s not the one being charged and I’m not dragging him into this.” Bellamy speaks calmly “And as I said, this was me and no one else.”

Jaha tiredly takes off the glasses he was wearing and rubs his forehead.

“Look, son-” Bellamy flinches at the word “I don’t know what’s going on exactly but if you don’t help me out, I don’t think there’s much I can do for you.”

“That’s okay.” Bellamy nods “I understand.”

Aurora stands up her chair dragging against the floor in a loud angry screech.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jaha can you maybe give us a minute.” he nods and closes the folders on the desk before standing up and heading to the door. 

Clarke too, decides she should leave, as this is a family matter and she has no say in it but Aurora stops her.

“Clarke, you should stay.” it takes one look between them for her to go back to the table and lean her back on it while they wait for the lawyer to close the door behind them, which is when Aurora finally bursts.

“I don’t know what the hell is going through your head but if you think I’m going to watch my son go to jail because he’s too damn prideful, then you’re more stupid than I thought you were, Bellamy!”

“It’s not about being prideful” Bellamy continues in the same calm and seemingly collected manner but when he looks at them, she sees the anger in his eyes “You don’t know this woman, mom. If she finds out it was me who ratted her out and let me tell you, she will, because she has cops that work for her in that station, then none of this will matter.”

“Why not?” Clarke speaks when she sees Aurora’s furrowed eyebrows.

“Because she’ll kill me.” he says and it’s the way he does it that sends a shiver down her spine because he seems so calm when he speaks, as if he was announcing the weather and not his possible demise. 

It scares the shit out of her. 

“And if she doesn’t, she’ll hurt you or Octavia.” he moves his eyes to his mom who falls back on the chair and buries her head in her hands. “I don’t care how much you hate me right now, I don’t care if you think I’m stubborn or prideful…I’ll never let anything happen to you two.” his voice finally breaks at the last part if only for a moment.

“Are you sure? She can’t be that invincible, there must be some kind of way-”

“Even if there is, this is not my fight.” he cuts her off again “We have enough on our plate as it is, I won’t make you or Clarke a target.”

“Me? Why me?” he hadn’t mentioned her by now.

“She can find out who helped me get a lawyer, trust me, she has eyes everywhere.” the fact that he’s concerned for her well-being makes her eyes soften when she looks at him but at the same time, something inside her burns with the fire of the injustice of it all- _ **this is wrong, so damn wrong.**_

“So what?” Aurora raises her voice again “You go to jail? You do time because of her?”

“I do time because of _**me**_.” he grips the chair handle with his good hand, trying to contain his emotions “You said it yourself, I was stupid enough to get involved with her and I’m going to suffer the consequences. Plus…you head him, if this happens now I’ll go to juvie, stay there a few months and be done with it. It won’t be that bad.”

Clarke looks at him and she can so clearly see how hard he’s trying to appear like he really has a grip of the entire situation but just one look at that boy made her wonder how the hell will he survive even a week in a detention center or god forbid, jail. 

His shoulder would take another few weeks, if not at least a month to heal and even then he will need some rehab to get it back to the way it was. 

Three of the ribs on his side were broken, the rest bruised, but the worst of it all, she knew, was that they had no way of knowing how bad his heart condition was. 

He was still sick and slow after the infection that was true-he had lost weight, he had gotten weaker, but if his blood pressure was off the charts or if his heart was out of rhythm, they had no way of knowing. 

He would need medication to keep it in check and even then, it wasn’t a sure thing.

And then an idea appears in her head.

“What if we say that he’s sick.” Aurora’s head snaps at her when she hears that, eyes finally gleaming with hope. 

“We’ll point out he’s been shot, that he hasn’t yet recovered, that the police targeted them even if they were fucking kids.”

“Clarke-” Bellamy speaks up furrowing his brows but Aurora shots him a look.

“I mean it’s not a lie-he does have a serious heart condition. He needs to be checked up and treated. I’m sure we can get Jackson to explain it too.”

“No.” Bellamy stands up so harsh that the movement makes him stagger. 

Both Clarke and Aurora try to reach out and take his hand but he steadies himself before they can and gives her an angry look.

“We won’t do that.”

“Bellamy-”

“Mom, _**no!**_ ”

“This is a way out, she’s right, we can use this. We can at least try.”

“I’m not playing the sick card.”

“Why not, if it’s the truth? You _**are**_ sick, Bellamy.” and when she says it she realizes that this is the wrong way to go about this. 

He hated being reminded of that, he hated feeling weak, he’d never let them do that. 

“You could get worse in there.”

“You could die in there.” Aurora speaks her biggest fear and reaches to touch his arm “Bellamy,please.”

“I said no!” he pulls away from her “I’m fine and this is not an excuse!”

“Why on earth do you want to get punished so badly?” Aurora asks confused and mad at his behavior.

 _“BECAUSE I DESERVE IT, MOM!”_ he yells back his voice echoing in the office. “Because I goddamn did this and I won’t get away with it just because you’re feeling ashamed of me!”

“This isn’t about that-”

“It damn right it is.”

“Bellamy, this isn’t a lie, this isn’t you trying to sneak out” Clarke tries to intervene, approaching him carefully “You have a condition.”

“I’m fine!” he barks at her as angry as he had at his mom and she notices a curl on his forehead swing violently at the movement. In another time, she would’ve found it adorable but right now this was serious.

“No, you’re not.” Aurora says calmly now “And you forget that I am still your mother, the person responsible for you, so I am the one who calls the shots.”

“Mom, you can’t-”

“I can and I will!” she states sternly and it’s so scary that even Clarke stiffens “This is your life” her voice cracks at that “I’ve let this go far too long-you are not responsible for me or Octavia any more than we are for you. We are a family, this isn’t a one sided thing but I let you run around and work and help me out because of the way things were for us, because I was sick. But now you’re sick too and I am your mother and it is my job to take care of my kid.”

“The only thing wrong with your logic is that you’re missing the important fact that I haven’t been a kid in the last ten years.” he whispers back angrily and it makes Clarke feel really out of place. 

This was a family matter and she wasn’t part of their family no matter how much she came by and tried to help but Aurora had told her to stay in the hopes they can convince Bellamy’s stubborn nature to cave down and she couldn’t say no to that because she agreed.

It didn’t matter if he told the police about Anya or not-she could hurt him on the outside but he was going to hurt himself if he went to juvie too if he went there in the condition he was in,so it was all the same. 

It was an impossible situation.

Aurora’s eyes fill at that and she clenches her jaw at his words but for once, she’s relentless. 

After all, he did inherit his stubborn heart from her.

“That may be it but as I said-you’re still a minor for another three months and I make the decisions. If after that you want to ruin your life, you can do it but I call the shots now.” Bellamy deflates when he realizes he’s not going to win this one. He still tries to speak up but she cuts him off before he can.

“I agree that involving Anya is dangerous but we’ll try Clarke’s plan. It’s what’s best for you.”

“Mom-”

“That’s final, Bellamy.” she raises her hand and his face finally falls, his whole body slumps and he staggers again but before he can fall, Clarke grabs his arm and helps him to the chair. 

It’s like someone cut the world from underneath him, took whatever it was that kept him upright away, and now he was nothing but a sad empty boy with a fucked up arm and a broken heart in the literal sense.

“Clarke, can you please ask Mr. Jaha to come back in.”

Clarke nods and she doesn’t know if they talk anymore without her in the room but she doubts it, considering the fact that when they come back, Bellamy’s still sitting in the same position, with the empty look he had in his eyes in the first place and his mom hasn’t stopped leaning on the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

They discuss their ideas with Jaha and he tells them that with Bellamy sick like that it will change things, give him a shot. 

He’d still try to portray him as the caring brother and son that he was, only trying to steal so he could get money to help his family, point out he regretted his decisions and was shot and almost died in a cell without any medical help but the fact that his heart was also sick surely helped a lot more.

Bellamy’s quiet the entire time, leaving his mom and Clarke to do the talking. 

Jaha seems happy with the current outcome and asks them to come back tomorrow so they can prepare Bellamy for the hearing which was fast approaching.

He still thinks they need some medical files as proof to show to the judge so instead of going home, Clarke calls Jackson who’s thankfully on shift and together they go to the hospital so Bellamy could get examined and have all the tests he needed get done.

He doesn’t speak, not even when they arrive there and Jackson greets them, seemingly happy that finally Aurora managed to convince her son to take care of his health. 

Bellamy’s not there with them, though, not at all. When they leave him with the nurses and wait in the lobby, Clarke notices the way he follows Jackson-with his eyes half opened, his legs tiredly trudging after.

Bellamy lets them do anything they need to without a protest. 

They stick needles in his arms, do scans, plaster weird wires to his chest and observe his heart beat on a monitor. 

Jackson asks him a few stuff but he gives him short and vague responses. 

By the end if it, he’s even more tired than he was before but it’s not the physical pain that’s actually killing him. 

His soul feels heavy, like he’s a thousand years old and he can’t remember the last time he felt so damn sad, not even when his mom started getting really sick and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jackson asks when they are about done with everything and he’s trying to put his t-shirt, the one Clarke so generously gave him, back on.

He just nods at that but he must not sound very convincing.

“If you’re in pain or if there’s something else bothering you, you can always tell me, you know?” Bellamy doesn’t say anything back, just tries not to stare at his awfully bruised ribs and grabbing his jacket before he stands up. 

“Bellamy!” Jackson stops him putting his hand on his arm and standing in his way “Come on, kid,talk to me.”

Bellamy looks in his eyes and he can see that the guy means it but whatever it was inside him-the desperation, the sadness, the hopelessness, also ignites his anger, makes him hurt so damn much, so he just shrugs him off rudely and heads to the door.

He takes a turn to the waiting room and he knows Jackson is trailing closely by, probably to talk to his mom and Clarke but he can’t stand it anymore, he won’t, so he just walks to the exist ignoring the way they stand up and call his name.

He opens the glass door with a swing and when he’s finally outside he lets himself breathe. He closes his eyes and lets the winter sun graze his face if just for barely a moment.

When he realizes he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk, he moves back to the wall and leans on it, simply breathing in and out. 

His heart is trumping in his ears really loud, his feet are so tired they are barely holding him upright and he feels the tears sting at his eyes.

He can’t remember a time he felt more alone. 

A time his heart ached in such a way, with such heaviness and desperation. A time where he couldn’t even make himself talk because what point was there? 

It hurt to even keep himself away, feeling so fed up with everything around him.

His heart, not his literal broken one, but the other one, the one he believed was good and kind and full of light, but turned out was just as fucked up from the darkness as everything in him was, craved a cigarette, so he moves his jacket away and digs in the pocket of his sweater-the same one he wore that night he and Murphy went to see Anya before they tried to steal from the Lightbournes.

He fishes out the packet and it’s light, way too light which makes him wince-he really hoped there was at least one or two more left of the gift his friend gave him. 

Thankfully, when he opens it up, he does indeed find one last cigarette and he lights it up before his mom and Clarke had come out.

Smoking makes him drowsy but the good kind, his world still sways before him but he’s calmer now, he takes long drags and lets the smoke fill his lungs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarke comes out and judging by the look on her face, she’s pissed. 

He doesn’t mind that, he just can’t. So he keeps smoking, knowing he’ll have to finish this off before his mom joins them too. 

Clarke must sense his mood because she doesn’t pull it out of his fingers and give him a speech but instead joins him leaning on the wall. 

“This is bad for you, you know?”

He shrugs and takes another drag, then surprises himself by extending his hand and offering her some. 

She looks at him like he’s insane but accepts it and takes in the smoke more than once. 

The intense look he gives her, the way his eyes fall on his lips make her own heart skip a few beats but it is when his fingers touch hers to get it back that she feels the electricity run through her body.

He finishes it off and throws it in the bin near them before he exhales the last of the smoke just as his mom makes it out.

She looks really worried but when she sees them there, she raises her eyebrow in suspicion and catches them exchange knowing looks before Bellamy returns to his stoic cold facade.

“We should get going, you’ve been through a lot, you need to rest.”

“I’ll walk home.” he says just as Aurora heads to the car but stops midway and turns around at his statement.

“Bellamy-”

“What? You’ll tell me that I can’t go home on my own now? Force me in a car, put me in a bed, lock me inside because I’m still a minor?” Clarke opens her mouth to intervene but Aurora shakes her head when she notices. This wasn’t a battle they’d win today. “Didn’t think so.” he huffs and turns around walking in the opposite direction of their home.

Aurora stays there for a moment as if she was waiting for him to stagger and fall but then Clarke comes and squeezes her shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

He hears them talk when he walks away but pays no attention to it, instead fastening his stride and making a corner desperate to get as far away as he can from the hospital. 

Clarke might’ve been right-he was afraid of doctors, but today he was more emotionless while they prod him with needles and listened to his lungs, feeling in a state out of there, like these things weren’t actually being done to him, which had helped until now when the anxiety of it all returned full force and he commanded his trembling fingers to curl up in a fist.

He forced his lungs to pull air in and out despite the pain in his ribs and chest and focused on the task at hand.

_**He had to talk to Murphy.** _

Except when he arrives there, the sun is almost setting and he finds the childhood home his friend hated so much, empty.

That doesn’t discourage him, though. 

He could sit by the stairs and wait, he needed the rest anyway and if Murphy was out there doing something, he would eventually come back. 

If he didn’t, he could try his girlfriend’s Emori’s place but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it there tonight, not on foot for sure. 

The walk had exhausted him, his heart beating loud in his chest, his shoulder burning, so he leaned on the side of the house, stretched his legs on the porch and closed his eyes.

“So you’re homeless now, is that it, Blake?” he doesn’t know how much time has passed but when he opens his eyes it’s completely dark around them, the only light coming from the street lamps on the street, not all of which were working. 

He hoped his mom won’t throw a fit about him not being home yet. Despite their fight, despite everything that has been happening lately, he still didn’t want to worry her any more than he had.

Murphy gives him his signature sneaky smile before he sits down on the porch next to him and takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Bellamy shakes his head this time and takes out his own.

“I actually have some this time” he had bought them from the corner store on Murphy’s street, nobody questioning his age, not around here, because he knew he’d need to release the tension of the day. “In fact, I’m paying back my debt” he throws an unopened one in Murphy’s lap and he smiles.

“You never let anyone give you anything, do you?” Bellamy nods and takes the lighter when Murphy offers him one and soon both of them are smoking in the darkness of the street. 

A darkness that had consumed their entire lives and that they were so used to by now.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks after a minute when he’s found a more comfortable position that didn’t make his arm hurt as much.

“I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

“No but you had to endure the hurricane that is my mother after.”

“You’re right that was worse.” Bellamy winces and tries to meet his eyes but his friend is stubbornly staring straight ahead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what she said exactly but-”

“Oh you know the usual-that it was my fault, that ever since we started hanging out, I’ve been dragging your ass into various forms of trouble, that if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been bleeding out inside in your bed, barely alive.” 

Bellamy doesn’t really know what to say to that. There was no way to apologize for her behavior but he also couldn’t blame her-she never knew the whole story, they never actually talked about everything that happened that night. 

“I can’t blame her, though. She cares. I’d kill to have had a parent who gave a damn about me.”

“Your dad did.”

“Yeah but he’s gone. They all are.”

“Not Emori, though.” Bellamy’s not sure what he’s trying here. 

Murphy’s not the one to seek consolation or pity, he never was.

“Not Emori.” his friend doesn’t seem offended, on the contrary, he smiled, thinking about her and that makes Bellamy breathe a little easier.

“It’s actually good that you’re here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you but I knew your mom won’t let me anywhere near you and I couldn’t risk it even if it was just your blond girlfriend inside since she wasn’t all too pleased with me that night either.”

“Clarke?” Bellamy raises an eyebrow and takes another drag of his cigarette, feeling calmer by the minute “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She is your something. How the hell did you get a rich girl to save your ass?”

“I met her the night we were supposed to steal her car.” Murphy chokes on his smoke and it takes him a minute to compose himself.

Bellamy pats his back before he’s back to breathing normally and tells him everything that had happened back then. 

When he’s done Murphy seems impressed.

“Damn…you’re telling me these rich folks actually have hearts?”

“I suppose some do.”

“So she never called the police? Never ratted you out but instead helped you?”

“Don’t give me that look, I’m as surprised as you are.” Murphy lets out a quiet yet still surprised “Hmm” before he puts out his cigarette and immediately picks another one. 

Bellamy follows soon after.

“You’re not trying some scheme are you?” Bellamy elbows him in the ribs and he buckles over from the force, cursing lightly.

“What? I had to ask.”

“I’m not. It’s different with her.”

“Oh so you do like her then.” that earns him another hit “Ouch! What? I saw how worried she was about you that night. She was trying really hard to keep you awake in the car, then barked orders at me and your mom once we were at your place, telling us what to do to help stop the bleeding.”

“She did?” Bellamy asks surprised at that new piece of information, he really can’t recall much of that night, it was all in bits and pieces, him waking up then passing out, like a movie cut in short scenes that made no sense to anyone.

”I don’t remember it all.”

“Well I fucking do, Blake.” the way he says it makes Bellamy’s head snap at him, taking in his composure, the way he was biting his lip, facing away from him, as if afraid that if Bellamy sees his eyes he’ll find all the emotions that he’s buckling up gathered at the corners. 

He realizes only now what he did to him that night. 

Murphy lost his mom just a few weeks ago, Bellamy was his only friend as far as he knew, everything in his world was turned upside down at that time and without any protest, he had followed him into that night so they could steal a car. 

He could’ve told him his mom was dead, that he wasn’t feeling well, because Bellamy knew he was off that night, he had sensed it, but he still said nothing and Murphy had followed him like he always did, refusing to leave him behind.

Then he had to hold him in his arms and watch him bleed out in a cell.

Goddammit…this was wrong. All of it was so wrong.

“Murphy, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was, if I hadn’t gone to Anya, if I hadn’t insisted that we do this-”

“Will you cut it with the guilt bullshit?” Murphy huffs angrily “You didn’t get yourself shot. I was there because I wanted to be. End of story.”

“You could’ve ran away, saved yourself. You would’ve never even been caught.” Bellamy points out and Murphy shakes his head “But you’re not like this, are you?”

“I don’t know what I’m like.” he’s annoyed at that, Bellamy knows, because he feels the same way too. 

“Maybe I should’ve left you and ran away, maybe I should’ve never gone in there with you but I did. I don’t regret it and you shouldn’t either. It’s all in the past now-you’re alive so am I, that’s what matters.” 

Bellamy exhales the smoke and doesn’t say anything at that but notices that Murphy eyes him curiously, waiting for him to say something. 

When he realizes he won’t, it’s his turn to elbow him but easily, playfully, being mindful of his injuries. 

“Besides if I wasn’t there, who would’ve saved your skinny ass?”

Bellamy smiles and looks up at the stars and for a moment they grow silent. 

Two boys sitting in the dark, on the porch of an empty house, feeling the darkness seep in through them while they let it but with eyes still focused on the stars where the light is. 

Bellamy liked thinking the night sky represents his soul-he was all darkness and wrongs but the stars, they shone still, despite it all…so that meant there must be some good in him too, right? 

Something that wasn’t totally fucked up by the world around? Or maybe there wasn’t….maybe it was all gone now.

Bellamy’s eyes fall down to the small front yard, very similar to the one at their own place, except it looks somewhat better without all the toys and bicycles spread around. 

There wasn’t a worse thing than seeing something hopeful, like a kid running around on that dusty ground, playing without a care in the world, unaware of their environment like so often happened with him and Octavia. 

He hated the fact that the light in her eyes would once be gone when she realizes that this is all there was to the world…at least to theirs-pain and misery, always, all the time. 

He hated the thought of looking at her one day and finding that same darkness that he sees in his eyes when he stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He wonders if Murphy was ever a happy kid in this house. 

Did he run around riding his bike? Did his dad put a swing set for him? Did he let him sway too high or was he scolding him to slow down? 

Considering the way Murphy was, he’d guess it was the second-he must’ve been a little devil even as a kid.

He almost itches to ask him about it if he didn’t know how much pain it’d bring him, so instead he remembers something else and breaks the silence as he puts out his second cigarette and gives himself another minute before he lights the next one, feeling his heart once again trumping too loudly.

“What did you want to tell me before?”

The fact that Murphy takes a while to respond, finishing his own cigarette and focusing on spreading the ashes of it on the ground, drawing lazy circles, should be enough for Bellamy to conclude that this isn’t something good.

“I’m leaving town.” he finally announces but never looks up “Actually, Emori and I are.”

Bellamy tenses next to him but after he takes a moment to let the information sink in, he smiles sadly more to himself than to Murphy.

“That’s good.” Murphy finally looks up, obviously surprised at his reaction but hiding it really well with a half shrug “Where are you going?”

“Miami. She has cousins there, they’re going to help us get a job, start clean.”

“So you’re going to sunbathe your skinny ass in the south while I freeze over here?” Bellamy pretends to huff annoyed but he’s actually really happy about him. 

“Sounds like you. Do you plan to come back or is this a permanent thing?” he asks, he has to. If he’s sending his only friend away, then he has to know.

“We feel like we need a clean slate, so…” Murphy clears his throat “But you never know, we might end up road tripping around the country and coming back home.”

“This hasn’t felt like home in forever for you, Murphy.” Bellamy points out and when he doesn’t argue with him, they fall back in a comfortable silence for a moment too long, taking their minute to light their third cigarette. 

At this rate, they might smoke half the pack and when Bellamy got home, he knew he’d smell and his mom would be mad but right now he couldn’t care.

“I know why you came by” he’s the one to break the silence this time, changing the subject in his typical Murphy way “I heard the Lightbournes pressed charges.”

Bellamy’s surprised that he knows but then again nothing stayed hidden for too long around here.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to involve you in any way.” Bellamy promises feeling his discomfort, the way he sits up wary like a scared cat. “You think Anya knows?”

“Probably. You aren’t going to-”

“No, God, I’m not stupid.” Bellamy cuts him off, reading his thoughts, grateful once again that even though he couldn’t convince his mom to leave him alone about the whole heart thing, he at least made sure she realized they couldn’t involve Anya’s name anywhere near this

“Do you have a way out?” Bellamy shrugs at that.

“I don’t know yet and honestly…I’m not sure I care.”

“You should.” Murphy points out carefully “Juvie’s no joke, no matter what anyone says, trust me.” he’s speaking from experience, Bellamy knows that. 

He’s been in and out at least three times and after every one, he came out a little more fucked up, caring about getting into trouble a little less. 

But Bellamy ignores his words now, not really feeling like indulging in the prospect of his future lock up.

“I was wondering…do you still have that gun that Anya gave you?”

“I do” Murphy answers slowly, examining his face but Bellamy tries to keep his face neutral when he turns to him “Why do you want it?”

“I may not involve her in this case but I’m sure she’s not happy about everything that went down…I just want to make sure mom and O are fine if something…happens. I want to be able to protect them.”

It’s not like he hasn’t shot a gun before. 

He has, many times, it was actually Murphy who first thought him way back in their freshman year. 

They used to go to this range and practice until Bellamy not only got the hang of it, but became a better shot than his friend. 

Murphy moped so much about it, he wouldn’t let it go for weeks but what had really scared Bellamy back then when he first felt a weapon in his hand was….that he liked it.

He enjoyed shooting, he was good at it and that was yet another thought that weighted on him when he couldn’t fall asleep late at night because he shouldn’t be liking it. It’s not who he was, how he was raised. 

If his mom knew that he so much as came close to a weapon, she’d grab him by the ear and ground him for a year, at least.

Murphy nods in understanding.

“I’ll go get it for you.” he quickly bounces on his feet and goes in the dark house without turning the lights on or putting off his cigarette. 

There was no one to catch him being a teenage kid with a bad attitude, there was no one to ground him.

He takes his time and when he comes back, Bellamy’s already standing, knowing far too well that this would be their goodbye. 

Murphy is obviously feeling awkward because he hands him a small brown paper bag while rubbing his neck and Bellamy takes it and hides it under his jacket.

“Thank you.” Bellamy finally says and their eyes meet “For everything.”

“Of course,it’s not a big deal.”

“It’ is.” Murphy looks back at his feet, feeling even more unaware of what to do. 

Bellamy smiles at the way he looks like a child. He didn’t need to ask him anymore what was it like for him when he was a kid growing in this house, he sees it plain and simple right before his eyes.

“You know we’ll pass by your place before we leave.” he says but Bellamy knows that won’t be true. 

Murphy couldn’t do this-the emotional part, the goodbyes, it’s not him…wasn’t them at all. 

This…this was better and somehow Bellamy must’ve sensed it today that this is one more thing, one more person he’ll have to say goodbye to.

His eyes fill with tears for a second so to hide it, he grabs Murphy’s arm and pulls him in for a hug. 

It’s short and awkward but it still feels good. Murphy pats his back with a bit too much fever and when they pull away, despite the dim light thrown by the street lights, Bellamy can swear he sees his friend’s eyes glint as well.

“Have a good time in Miami. Don’t get too cosy with the sun or your smart ass will get burnt.” Bellamy jokes lamely as he gives him one last nod and heads down the stairs.

He’s walking down the lane when he hears Murphy’s voice again.

“Hey, Blake” he is leaning on the rail, face serious. “The night of the shooting…your mom said something about your heart being fucked up.” Bellamy swallows hard at that “Is it true?”

“No.” he says it in the same way Murphy did when he told him they’ll pass by his place before they leave which is why his friend’s mouth falls a bit and his face twists in pain. 

Bellamy can’t stand to see it. This was the one person in the world who wouldn’t nag him about that because he didn’t know…and now he did. 

“I’m fine.”

“Still…take care of yourself, okay?” he insists and Bellamy smiles. 

Murphy might’ve not been a friend in the usual sense of the word but then again their lives were never actually normal and he never failed him. 

Not once, for all these years.

“I’ll see you around, Murphy.” Bellamy says before he finally turns his back and walks away.

“See you, Blake.” he hears him call out and he smiles because he’s heard the crack of his voice, knows he cares but this was, after all, not the worst goodbye or so he likes to think.

It takes him forever to come home. 

He’s really slow on his feet and his whole body feels as if its on fire, but worst of it all is not as much his shoulder as his ribs.

He must’ve really exerted himself with sitting in that uncomfortable position on Murphy’s porch. 

He still smokes on the way there, as bad as he feels, because he knows once he’s inside, he won’t get the chance to and he really hopes he can just cash in his bed, fall asleep and forget about it all.

He finds the house mostly dark except for the kitchen which surprises him and makes him worry that his mom is staying up late worrying about him in the condition she was in. 

But when he makes it in, he finds Clarke sitting in the dark on their couch, their poor old broken TV illuminating the place before her just enough for him to see her tired face. 

His mom’s not in the kitchen and he uses the first seconds of Clarke being too confused about the noise of him opening the door, to take out his brown package and hide it in his school bag under the hanger. 

It wasn’t a safe place, but it’ll have to do for now.

“Princess? What are you still doing here?” she stretches up her arms and yawns while he slowly approaches her. 

It takes him everything to try and not completely pass out on the couch when he finally sits down but the force of it still makes his ribs really hurt and his good hand shoots to cover them.

Clarke immediately goes into her caring mode and she turns to him to check out what’s wrong.

“I’m fine.” he tries but instead of ebbing, the pain only grows stronger so he has to squeeze his eyes shut and try to breathe into it. 

Clarke uses him being distracted to grab the side of his jacket and push it off of him which was easy considering one of his arms wasn’t even in it.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened, I just took a walk.” she shakes her head at that and grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Let me see.” he wants to fight her on it but when he sees her determined look he knows he won’t win this one. “Come on, I’ve seen you half-naked before, you have nothing to feel self-conscious about.” he still blushes at her stupid joke and she gives him a small smile but then he remembers the pain and grits his teeth.

“We need to take the sling off first.” he utters, more like whispers, in pain and she sits up closer to help him take it off his neck and slide it away only so she could place it on their old coffee table. 

He throws his head back when his arm falls on the side of his body and breathes in an out heavily for a minute. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t disturb him until he gets it somewhat together and only then does he feel her small hand over his that is still covering his bruised ribs.

“Can I see?”

“There’s no point, there’s nothing you can do.” he tries to shrug it off but she still furrows her eyebrows in determination.

“Still…let me see, please.” she asks again but neither he nor her make any attempt to move their hands away from his side. 

For a moment there he simply looks at her and he can see how hard her brain is trying to figure out a way to help him-her eyes are focused on his broken body before they finally move up and meet his eyes only to find his intense stare which results in the blush creeping up her cheeks and her hand finally pulling away from his.

“I’ll get some ice and bandages. We can wrap them up and relieve some of the pain.” before he can say he’s fine she’s already up on her feet, moving around the kitchen, way too familiar with the cabinets and their content. 

It’s only been a few weeks but he felt as if he’s always had her around and the thought makes him smile for a brief minute.

“Is mom asleep?” he asks when he tries to sit up in a more comfortable position.

“Yeah, she was really tired so I send her off to bed. Told her I’ll wait for you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.” she promises when she comes back and places all the supplies she’s carrying on the table before she stands up and turns the lights on. 

He winces at it, cursing quietly but she is in her “I don’t give a fuck” mode so the next thing he knows she’s pulling at his shirt once more and helping him take it off.

She doesn’t comment on the state of his bruised chest or the hole in his shoulder that’s patched up in an ugly awful way that will leave one hell of a scar, she mentions nothing about the graze on his arm. 

The scar there looks more like a paint brush and he wants to tell her so knowing how much she likes drawing but he senses it might not be a comparison she’d enjoy.

“Ribs or shoulder first?” she asks when she picks the bags of frozen peas, the only one they had around and he smiles to his bruised side before she presses it there.

“Ouch. Shit, princess, you could’ve gone more gently.”

“Oh, I forgot what a baby you were when you’re in pain.” she says mockingly patting his head but she keeps her hand over his again, pressed to his side and watches as the pain ebbs off of him even if just barely.

It’s strangely intimate, the way they are right now. 

Him sitting half sprayed on the couch, breathing heavily with their hands intertwined over his bruised ribs. 

It doesn’t feel awkward, though, not at all and he wonders how that came to be, when did it even happen that he was so easily showing his soul out to Clarke Griffin, resident princess, of all people.

“I know you want to ask” she breaks the silence after a while and he opens his eyes to meet her blue ones which seemed darker now even with the light turned on. “What Jackson told us.”

Oh, he thinks. He has honestly forgotten all about that and she must see the surprise and confusion on his face because she raises her eyebrow.

“No, I don’t.” he says honestly and closes his eyes again. “Is mom alright?”

“She has an appointment next week to see how the new treatment is working.”

“Good.” he avoids the fact that his hearing was next week too and that meant he’d either end up going straight to juvie or being released with some sort of punishment. 

“If I-” he swallows hard and she tries to move her hand away to place the frozen bag up on his shoulder but the pain is still too intense in his ribs so he holds her close, trying to convey his message and she gives up but listens to him carefully 

“If I go to juvie or jail…do you think you can still come by and check on mom and O?”

“Of course I will.” she promises “But you’re not going to end up there.”

“Because of your brilliant plan, right?” he says it only half-mockingly but he feels her stiffen.

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m not.” he says honestly and he really isn’t. He hopes that the tone of his voice can convey it all “I don’t really care.”

“That’s not a good thing either, Bellamy.”

“It’ll have to do.” he mumbles finally moving his hand away as well but before she can take care of his shoulder, he’s gently pushing her by the wrist and giving her a small smile. 

“I think I feel better. I should go to bed.”

“But I haven’t even-” she gestures at the bandages and he shakes his head, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over swiftly, surprising even himself when he manages to ignore the shooting pain in his shoulder.

“There’s no need to.” he promises and then checks the electronic clock on the TV “It’s late, you shouldn’t drive home at that time.”

“I’ll be fine.” she tries to promise and focuses on gathering everything she’s brought in and standing up to bring it back to the kitchen where she took it from. 

He can tell she’s angry that he didn’t let her take care of him but he just didn’t know how to explain to her that he’s had enough people today touching his body and trying to mend it or examine it and the thought alone make his hands shake.

“You don’t know this neighborhood, it’s not safe. You should stay.” he insists when he stands up and staggers on his feet which thankfully she misses because she’s with her back to him. 

He slowly walks over the the kitchen and comes to stand behind her, his hands reaches to lean on the counter, his chest so close to her back he could smell her hair. 

“Please, Clarke. You always take care of me, let me at least return the favor.”

She finally sighs and he swears he can feel how hard and fast her own heart was beating in that moment, notices the way her knuckles turn white when she grips the counter just a bit tighter in order to keep herself together.

He has been with other girls before, never anything serious except for Gina when they were sophomores but it was different back then and when her parents decided to move away, he hadn’t even come to say goodbye which he realizes was a really dick move. 

But with Clarke…there was something different there, something born out of circumstances he never could’ve foreseen but that something was honest and he thought he liked that the most about them.

Their banter was one thing, joking around, playing chess, reading books in his bed and complaining about the plot, watching her write her essay or doodle while he lay on his pillows and struggled with his pain-he hasn’t done that with anyone before.

And god when he took his time to look at her face when she couldn’t notice and he felt his heart just struggling to get out of his chest. 

He’d wished so many times he could reach and take her hand, cup her cheek, caress it with his thumb, tell her she is beautiful.

But he couldn’t.

Because he was the night sky and she shouldn’t turn into a star that tries to bring light to it. It wasn’t her job and it wasn’t fair.

“Okay, I’ll take the couch.”

“No way, you’ll sleep in my room. I can do the couch.”

“Bellamy, no offense but you’re literally struggling to breathe because of the pain, you can’t spend hours on that thing, it will only make it worse.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Well then I won’t stay.” she turns around and looks at him and for a moment there their faces are so close to one another and he notices how her eyes fall to his lips while he licks them and desperately wants to do this one thing, 

_**God, just this one thing.** _

But he knows he can’t so he moves away and the warmth of being around her is replaces with the coldness and darkness of the room.

“How about we just sleep together.” he suggests and her mouth falls a little at that, her eyes widen in surprise.

“No, not like this, I just mean…you know, falling asleep in my bed. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” 

It’s true. Whenever she came by while he was sick, she’d often lay opposite of him by his legs and read to him but at some point both him and her would doze off and he’d wake up to her quiet snores. It wasn’t the same as what he was proposing now-it wasn’t a conscious thing back then, it was just a product of circumstances but it still counted right?

“I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Bellamy, I don’t know…”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s not that, I don’t think you will, I just don’t want to-” she waves her hands in the air “You’re in pain already, I don’t want to make it any more uncomfortable.”

“You won’t, I promise.” he tries to give her a reassuring smile but while she’s still obviously contemplating on this, he grabs her wrist and starts pulling them to his room.

Once there, she seems to be feeling even more awkward so it’s his job to make this as normal as he can. 

He goes to his side and arranges the pillows so that she has enough for herself as well, then takes out an extra blanket and sprays it to the left where he assumes she’d like to go considering it’s where she always sat when she came by. 

He digs out a clean shirt and some plaid soft cotton pj pants that he has no idea how even came to be in his room and hands them to her hands shaking.

“I’ll let you change.” he mumbles before he heads to the bathroom leaving her still standing there in the same spot in the room completely flustered and unsure of what to do. 

He hopes he’s not wrong about that but when he reminded himself that this is okay, that he has fallen in the same bed with Murphy on multiple occasions and that friends can sleep together, his anxiety ebbs away.

When he goes back in, he finds her under the blankets with her back to him and he takes his time to pull out his boots, take off his jeans and put on these basketball shorts he slept in before he sneaks in next to her. 

He doesn’t bother with the shirt because the thought of moving his arm so much only makes the pain stronger.

“This really shouldn’t be this awkward.” he finally whispers when he’s sure that she’s not asleep judging by her breathing.

That makes her roll over to her other side and look at him. His hand is still covering his bruised ribs but he’s lying on his back because it’s the position he knows he’ll be the most comfortable in.

“We’re friends, right?”

“Of course we are.” she promises when she senses the doubt in his voice and moves a bit closer, her nose near his bicep.

“Okay. That’s good. Because I don’t have anymore left.”

“What do you mean?”

“Murphy’s going away.” he closes his eyes at the confession unable to look at her face. “Please don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay.” she promises and what she does next fucks up with his heart beat more than any wound can. “Where is he leaving to?”

“Miami”

“Oh, it’s nice there.” she comments lightly, pushing a bit closer to him, her nose grazing his arm and her face half buried in the pillow. 

She’s so soft like that when she’s sleepy, none of the serious badass always fighting for something Clarke was present, it was just her, a seventeen year old girl who had a really tiring day.

“Of course you’ve been.” he comments teasingly “How much sunbathing did you do?”

“None. I hate that actually. But I loved the sunsets, there, they are so pretty. I would sit on the beach with notebook in hand and draw until it got so dark, my dad had to come find me and take me home.” he humms imagining her there and closing his own eyes briefly as he tries to overcome another bout of pain. 

“Have you ever thought about it?” she asks him probably noticing how he tenses and trying to distract him “Going away?”

“All the time.” he admits shamefully “But I knew I couldn’t…not with mom and O counting on me.” he rubs his hand up and down his side trying to ease the tension and he notices she’s staring at his hand but doesn’t comment on it 

“What about you?”

“I actually like it here…the thought of leaving for college terrifies me.”

“Really?” he sounds surprised. “Clarke Griffin, future bad ass doctor-”

“You don’t know-.”

“I do.” he emphasizes again not just to tease her but because he really meant it “You’ll conquer the world and probably join the peace corps or some such thing trying to save the world, but you’re afraid to leave your childhood home.”

She slaps his bad arm and he ouches.

“You’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Oh you wish you’ve seen those parts of me, princess.” that earns him another slap and he chuckles though it hurts to breathe “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

“I think you’ll be fine, princess.” when she raises her eyebrow confused at him he simply smiles “When you go out there into the world. You’ll be okay.”

“So will you.” he doesn’t say anything to that but she does notice how he closes his eyes and there’s something she can’t quite catch when she looks at his face. 

There was the pain, sure, but something passed through him like lightening-just for a second but it seemed to leave him sad. 

“What’s on your mind?” she asks and he’s not prepared when he feels her fingers touching the scar on his arm. 

She traces it carefully, maps it out at the corners and then gently threads over it. He sucks in a breath at that and for a moment there he simply turns to look at her face, take her in while her eyes are pinned on the wrongs in his life.

She must’ve really done it unconsciously because when she realizes he’s staring at her, she comes to her senses and tries to pull away but he’s faster, reaching for her wrist and pulling her hand towards his arm.

“No,don’t stop.” he asks “It helps with the pain.” it’s a lot for him to admit that but he knows that she won’t let herself be vulnerable like this unless it was to help and he loved seeing that softness in her eyes, that light.

She smiles, cheeks red, but keeps tracing it with her finger while she waits for his answer. She has to poke his ribs to remind him of her question and he squirms underneath her like a little kid.

“I don’t know what’s on my mind…there are too many things.”

“Like?” she prods gently and he shrugs.

“Mom…Octavia, Murphy…that hearing.”

“It will be fine.”

“Yeah…fine. Not good or bad, just fine. That’s all my life ever is.” she stops tracing his scar and just goes back to burying her nose in his arm. 

It hurts him to do so, but he feels really sad and helpless tonight so with a groan he lifts it up and offers her to come closer. 

Despite the two blankets thrown over them, he could sense she was shivering from the cold and he hated the thought of her struggling because of him yet again.

“Bellamy-”

“Come here.” he asks but she shakes her head. “I’m fine, I promise, come here.”

“That’s your bad side.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Your face is literally screaming pain.”

“Clarke, just come here.” he asks and when she sees he won’t relent, she finally moves closer, pressing her tiny body to his bruised side and resting her head over his chest, mindful to be as far away from the wound on his shoulder as she can but secretly knowing that he must really hurt either way.

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Thank you, princess.” he moves his face to her head and lets himself breathe her in. 

Her hair smells like spring-something flowery, something sweet maybe cinnamon and lemon? But it was so nice and he let himself get drunk on it. Her hand moves up and down his chest and she asks about a thousand times if he’s sure that he’s fine and if he’s not in pain.

He was but he was used to it and strangely it felt better somehow now, with her pressed to him. He lets his thoughts slip.

“Really?”

“Yeah…you’re like my personal bandage.” he jokes his voice hoarse and sleepy.

“Oh yeah?” she whispers, her own voice sluggish and hoarse, heavy with drowsiness “And how am I doing?”

He smiles and this time he surprises her when his lips touch the top of her head. 

She stills for a moment, her eyes snap open in surprise and she just barely tightens the grip of her arm on his torso but if he senses it he doesn’t acknowledge it and instead rubs his nose against her hair.

“Oh, you’re perfect, princess.” he mumbles and she feels him drift off under her.

She closes her eyes and decides that this is all good, that there was nothing wrong with two people holding each other, sleeping in one bed or trying to keep themselves warm.

No. There wasn’t.

But she wasn’t sure it was called friendship.


	7. The Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once again, thanks to everyone still reading this fic! This is quite the important chapter so I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoodan

Less than a week later they are in a courtroom, all three of them-Bellamy, his mom and Clarke. 

Bellamy is sitting next to Jaha who is arguing fervently with the Lightbourne’s lawyer, a certain Diana Sydney who as they found out from Thelonius, was known for taking up on such cases where the rich were holding on a grudge towards someone who dared steal something precious from them and usually convinced the judges that the person responsible had to be imprisoned.

It’s been barely half an hour since the lawyers presented their case to the judge-Dante Wallace but to Clarke it felt as if it’s been days. 

Bellamy was sweating on his seat, his good hand clenched in a fist trying to keep himself together while his bad was still wrapped in the sling they insisted he put on even when he argued that he felt better. 

Jaha had said it’d be in his favor if the judge himself saw the results of the police shooting at a minor so Bellamy had to begrudgingly listen to them. 

He was also forced to put on new clothes which again his mom somehow managed to provide, so he looked presentable enough. 

Jaha said the impressions Bellamy leaves on the judge mattered, so though he felt uncomfortable in it, Bellamy put on nice black pants, a white button up shirt with a red tie and since Aurora didn’t have enough money for a coat, she had found a pretty decent black cardigan which Clarke thought made Bellamy look really charming. 

His hair was cut by Aurora herself and he was forced to shave-something with which Clarke helped out because his arm still felt really shitty, a moment she liked thinking of as it was somewhat …intimate. 

Just them in the backyard with an old chapped mirror and a big bowl full of water while he sat on a chair and tried to do this with his good right hand which however shook tremendously because of the heart medication he had recently started taking.

Clarke had stepped in, forced him to turn to her, abandoning the mirror entirely and taking in the razor from his hand. 

He joked she’d cut his throat, maim him before they ever make it to the court room but her hand had been steady and fast and she had tried really hard to ignore the way his eyes were pinned on her every movement.

That was just one of the moments in which Clarke was starting to doubt the boundaries of their friendship. 

After that first night when they fell asleep, she woke up to him still holding her in the same position, snoring just barely, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

She had taken the moment to just look at him as it was the only time Bellamy was at peace-all walls were down, he wasn’t trying to come out as he had everything under control and he wasn’t biting back his pain-he was himself, a seventeen year old boy with dark circles under his eyes and trembling hands who talked in his sleep, mumbled incoherent words and then snored loudly for a long minute before it quieted down to a low murmur. 

She had itched then to reach out and move the curls from his forehead, count the stars on his face but she refused to let him wake up just because she wanted to indulge an urge inside her that she never should have even had.

When he had finally woken up that morning, he was so sore from having slept like that, with her curled up on his bad side over his bad shoulder, that he couldn’t use his arm all day no matter how hard he tried to hide it from her. 

She knew and she had scolded him about it.

“Next time, I’ll sleep on my own side.”

“Oh so there will be a next time.” he had joked and she had slapped his sore arm just to watch him wince. 

He was too smug for his own good but god she loved him like that-that boyish innocent side of him that gave her hope one day he could actually be like this all the time-light hearted and smiling and happy. 

_**She wished it for him so hard.** _

But there was a next time, the night before the hearing, she had come by with Jaha to help Bellamy prepare since Aurora was working the afternoon and then his mom had insisted she stayed for dinner but they went over the notes once more as Bellamy was really nervous and before she knew it, it was midnight and there was no point in her going home when she’d have to drive here early in the morning just to pick them up and take them downtown.

That and Bellamy had been really anxious. 

His calm and collected attitude from last week had completely vanished. 

He still refused to talk to his mom, being mad that she was forcing him to go to Jackson and take his meds and while Clarke was trying to point out it was stupid and childish of him, he wouldn’t hear it. 

Aurora and him snapped at each other all the time until he gave up and just grew quiet while she went on and on about him getting into trouble in the first place. 

Clarke understood her too-she was scared about her boy and what would happen to him and maybe this was her way of dealing with all that but the only thing it did was either piss Bellamy off more or make him so hopeless he’d leave the house and not return for hours and when he did, he’d smell like cigarettes so bad that even his mom could tell what he had done.

Clarke had taken the habit of checking out his jacket pockets and counting how many he’s smoked and though she’s tried to talk to him about it he wouldn’t hear it, he just refused to.

“This is not something we’ll argue about, princess.” he had told her one day when he came home after another one of his and his mom’s fights “You won’t win that one.”

So she had given up deciding she could fight him on it when things settle down and convincing herself that the only reason he was doing it now was because he was anxious and maybe on a subconscious level he wanted to have control over something since his mom was calling all the shots when it came to his treatment.

He looks back to where she and his mom are standing behind the bar, first row in really uncomfortable wooden chairs and he seems so lost and confused that Clarke just wants to reach out and take his hand but she can’t. 

Instead, she tries to give him a reassuring smile and he responds with the same but it quickly falters. 

Her fingers itch to dig into his curls the way they were last night when they went to bed and she insisted that they lay on opposite sides and refused to let him pull her to his chest like last time. 

At some point though she had started to shake really badly, his room was, after all, very cold, so he had grabbed her wrist, huffed annoyed and pulled her to his back.

“If you won’t let me hold you then at least you hold on to me.”

“Bellamy, I-”

“Come on, didn’t you say I’m a furnace. You’re freezing like you’re in the goddamn North Pole.” she exhales and moves closer, carefully looping an arm over his middle.

“Are you sure that you’re not-”

“I don’t hurt. Come on.” he reaches to her calf and pulls it over his legs. 

She’s so surprised at his movement that she has to stifle her yelp but finally, she adjusts herself over him, practically wrapped around his back like a monkey and when she hears him hiss she is ready to jump away but his strong hand on her wrist stops her.

“What is it?”

“You’re just really cold.” he announces and she chuckles “Ice princess.”

“Well now you’ll warm me up.” she says and buries her chin in his neck. 

He hmms in agreement and she really feels the heat emanate from him in waves. 

She could understand it if he was still feverish but he wasn’t-that was just his constant state and she couldn’t say she was complaining about it. 

Her hand moves to his chest and she feels his heartbeat which was slow until it got too fast for a second and she cracked an eye opened though she was almost asleep.

“Are you okay?” he couldn’t have been. 

He was wobbly on his feet all day, his hand had shot up to his chest more often than not and when his mom came home and noticed his face twisted in pain and his shallow breathing she had scolded him for forgetting to take his heart meds. 

Clarke and Aurora were worried that the hearing was making things worse so they made sure to keep an eye on him at all times.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Trying really hard not to think about anything, princess.” he whispers and she moves her hand up to his curls and runs them through his freshly cut hair. 

She liked it like this-not too long or too short, the curls moving when his head snapped with a snarky remark or getting ruffled by his sister or himself when he was too nervous.

“Wanna talk about something else? Take your mind off things?” he had shrugged not really giving her a clear response so instead she started blabbing about the discussion they had on Anna Karenina in class and how her teacher was a total misogynistic ass and that she practically gave him a speech and made fun of him in front of the entire class which got her detention for a week. 

He had laughed and agreed with her, argued when necessary and soon enough when her hand fell back to his chest she found his heart beat had gotten slow again.

Before they had completely fallen, she had felt him move his head back and kiss her arm, just barely brushing his lips against her skin whispering a soft and quiet “Thank you, princess.”

He must’ve thought she was already asleep so she tried to keep her body from completely freezing under his touch and only when his own breathing evened out, did she allow herself to open her eyes and kiss his forehead. 

He had just barely stirred under her, mumbled something, but never woke and she found her heart growing sizes at the sight of him.

“His condition has no relevance to the case, Your Honor. He broke in, tried to steal and got away with it. He needs to be punished!” Diana Sydney’s voice brings Clarke back to reality and Bellamy’s worried eyes snap to the judge.

Clarke had noticed how the entire time Dante Wallace had kept his eyes on Bellamy, examining his reactions. 

Jaha had told them he was a stern but fair judge and he wouldn’t be convinced easily of either side’s points of views. 

When they found out it would be him working on Bellamy’s case, Jaha said that it was good, that they might actually have a shot here but all Clarke would see from where she stood was a grumpy old man who didn’t talk much except for when the lawyers took it too far and he clearly got sick of it.

On the opposite side of Jaha and Bellamy were Simone and Josephine, the latter of who kept throwing Clarke daggers whenever she turned to meet her eyes but all Clarke would do was sit straight and fist her hand, desperate to punch her in the face but knowing she couldn’t or she’d make matters worse.

Aurora’s hands shook next to her nervously, her eyes bounced from the judge to Bellamy to Jaha to Sydney so Clarke reached to hold her and gave her a small nod.

“They got this. It will be fine.”

“Your Honor, while I agree that there need to be repercussions for what my client did, I don’t believe we can simply ignore the mental and physical condition he is in after everything he has been through.”

“Oh, please, he’s a criminal and there’s nothing wrong with him!” Diana had argued, raising her voice.

“Mrs. Sydney there are medical files, put together by a professional, I don’t think you can argue with the truth.”

“That’s enough!” Wallace interrupts their bickering by raising his hand and both Jaha and Sydney grow quiet. 

The judge’s head turns to Bellamy and he gathers his hands together as if to calm himself down after listening to the lawyers bark at each other like street dogs. 

“I’d like to call the defendant to the stand.” Bellamy swallows hard at that. 

They were expecting this but they really hoped it wouldn’t get there. Jaha had said it’s best if the lawyers convince the judge on their own but he had his suspicion that considering Wallace’s way of work, that wouldn’t be the case.

“Come up here, son.” Wallace says more gently now and Bellamy throws Clarke and his mom one last look before he stands up, swaying on his feet and heads to the center of the room where a small wooden stand stood just between Jaha and Sydney, but closer to the judge.

Bellamy tries to straighten himself, look all confident and tall but Clarke could see how he winced when he moved and the way his good hand shoot to grip the side of the stand so he would hide the desperate shakes.

“I think both you and I have heard enough from the lawyers, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Blake?” Bellamy gives a small scared nod but tries to command his eyes to remain on the judge “I want you to tell my why you stole.”

“It’s really simple, Your Honor. Like every other kid in my neighborhood, I needed money.” Bellamy’s voice shakes at first when he speaks up but then he must force himself to get it together because it evens out.

“And what do you needed the money for?”

“Get my mom medicine and my sister food like my lawyer said, Your Honor.”

“And you haven’t thought about earning in an honest way? Getting a job?” Wallace asks but he’s not attacking him, he’s simply observing Bellamy and he leans in his big char and rubs his chin.

“I had, Your Honor. I used to work for Pike’s construction crew last year.” Bellamy explains calmly “As well as a diner in town.”

“So you had two jobs?” Wallace leans forward interested in what Bellamy had to say “And you went to school?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“But then you threw it all away to steal cars, why?”

“Have you ever been in Arkadia, Your Honor?” Bellamy asks in his turn and Wallace tilts his head to the side in interest. 

He could clearly see this boy was smart but also bold. Clarke sucks in a breath next to Aurora, hoping he won’t be mad at Bellamy’s behavior.

“I was born in Hydra. Studied and worked hard to make my way to where I am but I’ve had friends from Arkadia and I have been there on multiple occasions” Wallace responds and Clarke’s heart sinks. 

Hydra was a middle-class neighborhood and not nearly as bad as Arkadia. It was mostly full of hard-working people and despite the fact that things weren’t all rosy there, there wasn’t any criminal activity or that much desperation as there were in Bellamy’s neighborhood. 

However, Wallace must know a lot about hard life so this clearly wasn’t working in their favor.

“Then you know how low the salaries are but how expensive everything else is? You’re aware of the violence and gangs that litter the neighborhood? The dirty streets and the run down houses that leak from every corner of every room?”

“I am.”

“Stealing wasn’t a choice for me, Your Honor, it was a way I had to go down to. Imagine coming home and finding your mother lying in her bed barely breathing. You ask her to get up, beg her to maybe at least sit, drink some water, eat whatever meager food you have left. Imagine going to your manager and asking for an early pay check or a loan so you could buy her medicine but they shake their head and when you try to fight for your rights they fire you on the spot and tell you to never come back.”

“Your Honor, this has no relevance-” Diana Sydney tries but Wallace raises his hand at her and nods at Bellamy.

“Go on, Mr. Blake.”

“Imagine going back home and now it’s not just your mother there, but your little sister who has woken up and she comes to you, wraps her arms around your leg and says she’s hungry buy you don’t have anything to give her because you already tried to feed your mom to get her stronger, so you go outside and try to find something…anything, no matter what it was just so you won’t have to see that same look on her face.” Bellamy takes in a shuddering breath and briefly looks down, closing his eyes.

“So you see, Your Honor, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face my baby sister and I couldn’t watch my mother suffer.”

Wallace leans on his chair and takes in a moment to just look at Bellamy, clearly thinking over his words and Clarke hoped Bellamy’s speech will have a say in his decision.

“Mr. Blake, was that your first attempt at stealing a car?” he asks next, taking in one of the manila folders before him and opening it up.

“No, Your Honor, it is not.”

“And it is safe to assume you have succeeded in your other endeavors?”

“Your honor, my client would like to use his right not to answer this question as the focus of this case is simply about the break in in the Lightbourne’s estate.” Wallace raises his hand again to tell Jaha to keep quiet and turns his look to Bellamy who struggles for a moment, not sure what to do, but follows his guts to be honest.

“Yes, Your Honor.” he finally answers and Aurora curses next to Clarke. Wallace seems to appreciate the honesty, though because he just humms to himself before he speaks up again.

“And how many more cars would you say you’ve stolen?”

“I’m not sure, Your Honor. I didn’t really keep count.” Jaha winces at that and buries his head in his hands. 

This wasn’t good, he shouldn’t be discussing possible previous crimes as he could be charged with them eventually, if Wallace decided to do so.

“And is it true that you tried to rob another house just a few weeks before that in that same neighborhood?” Bellamy seems taken aback at that and he stiffens unable to speak up. 

Clarke’s head shots up. How the hell did they know about that? Her and her dad never pressed charges. Didn’t even report him. 

Then her eyes fall on Josephine who’s smiling wickedly and Diana Sydney’s face is one bearing an early win.

”There’s no point in denying it, son. I have photos from the street camera’s here showing you running away from the…” he checks the name in the file “Griffin’s house. Is that correct, yes or no?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Bellamy exhales and his voice comes out small and trembling.

“And would you mind sharing with us why your attempt failed then too?”

“I wasn’t careful enough. Thought there was no one in the house but when I slipped in the garage and tried to take the car, I was caught by Mr. Griffin.”

“Yet they didn’t call the police?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Why’s that?” Bellamy turns his head to briefly look at Clarke before he clears his throat and speaks up again “I’m not sure, Your Honor. I assume they thought I was just a kid who didn’t know what he was doing.”

“They showed you mercy.” Wallace comments, curiosity evident in his voice but then it turns harsh and cold when he continues “Yet you forgot about it and went in that same neighborhood to steal from another person’s house just what? A few weeks later?”

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that so he remains quiet, clearly embarrassed by it all, his neck and cheeks were red and he was heavily leaning on the stand. 

He didn’t look good at all and Clarke worried that something might happen to him.

“That doesn’t make much sense to me, Mr. Blake.” Wallace keeps on “Why would you risk hitting the same part of town twice in such a short period of time? Unless there was someone else pulling the strings?” 

Bellamy fervently shakes his head at that.

“No, Your Honor, it was just me.” that makes Wallace furrow his eyebrows and clench his jaw as he skimmed through another document.

“The police report says there were two of you. A boy called John Murphy.”

“He had nothing to do with this, Your Honor.”

“He was there” Wallace points out “He had everything to do.” Bellamy doesn’t say anything to that simply tries to withstand the judge’s harsh look “But he’s not the one on trial here, is he?”

“Murphy was only there because of me” Bellamy utters simply while Wallace goes through the files before him again. Once he gets what he needs he takes off his glasses and sighs tiredly.

“So you and your friend decided to rob the Lightbournes on your own? Why them?”

“I knew the house well, I could turn off the alarms and the security system.”

“You’ve been working at that place for what? Ten years?”

“Me and my mother, yes.” Wallace’s eyes turn briefly to the place Clarke and Aurora stood and he takes her in.

“And what were you doing for them?”

“My mom was their maid, I was mostly responsible for the manual work.” Bellamy explains, voice a little calmer if only just for a moment.

“And it is my understanding that when your mom’s condition got worse, you started going there for her, so she wouldn’t be fired.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Every day?”

“It was hard for me to believe it too, but it seems like rich folks can’t do their laundry or make their beds on their own, Your Honor.” Clarke sucks in a breath at that and Aurora briefly smiles though she knows this won’t do Bellamy any favors. 

Judging by the way Wallace gives him a half-smile though, she could see he clearly liked Bellamy’s response.

“So that meant you stopped going to school?” Bellamy nods at that and Wallace picks another file “Now, I checked in your grades and I was pleasantly surprised to see that you were a straight A student…at least until this year. I called your principle, who’s also your English teacher and he said you’ve only come in the first two weeks, is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Now, he also said you were one of his smartest students. Would argue about Shakespeare and Dostoevsky for hours. He said your papers were college-level material.” Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that but he blushes once more, clearly uncomfortable with the praise.

“I just don’t understand why you would throw all of that away to steal cars and ruin your future, Mr. Blake.” Clarke winces at that, knowing it can’t be good and when Bellamy doesn’t say anything, because what was there to say, she feels Aurora’s hand squeezing hers.

“What do you picture your future like, Mr. Blake?” he asks then and Clarke swallows hard, they haven’t really practiced half of the questions the judge asks him. “What do you want to do when all of this is over?”

“I know you want me to give you a definitive answer, Your Honor, but the truth is..” Bellamy sighs tiredly and looks up again “I don’t know. With everything going on, I haven’t had the time to think about it much. I know I want to find a job…help my mom get better. Take my sister back home from our aunt.” he’s honest and Wallace can see that but there’s something else in his eyes that Clarke can’t really decipher.

“And school?”

“I’m not sure it’s the right place for me.”

“That stubborn boy.” Aurora curses quietly and Clarke bites her lips next to her. 

This wasn’t going as good as they were hoping too and when she moved closer to the edge of her seat, to get a better look at Bellamy, even if it was harder to from that angle, she notices that now his face is pale, really pale and he is struggling to breathe.

“He doesn’t look good.” she mentions quietly and Aurora herself tries to get a peak of her son only to furrow her eyebrows and check the watch on Clarke’s wrist.

“There can’t be much left, right?” Clarke shrugs not really sure about it but growing more nervous by the minute. Wallace was going through some of the files again before he speaks up.

“Let’s go back to the night of the break in. You and your friend tried to steal but failed, why?”

“The Lightbournes had installed additional alarm systems near the main gates for the party going in their house…or at least that’s my assumption.”

“So the police came and you started running.” Bellamy nods at that “Then you got shot?” he looks at the papers before him once more “In the arm, then the shoulder?”

“That’s right.”

“Did they warn you before they started shooting? Told you to stop and surrender?”

“No, Your Honor, not that I can remember.”

“That’s interesting…the police reports state otherwise.”

“Of course they do.” Aurora whispers angrily.

“Then you were taken to the station and didn’t get any help?” Bellamy shakes his head “Even though you were shot?”

“I’m not sure they knew I was, Your Honor. Even I wasn’t…certain of until Murphy and I were in the cell and we realized there was too much blood.”

“And when you did, did you try to ask for help?”

“Yes, but they denied us. Said it’s just the graze on my arm and we were trying to get away from there.”

“Again, the officer’s report state that they offered to call the paramedic on sight but you refused. Those are two slightly different and controversial statements, Mr. Blake.”

“Trust me, Your Honor, I had no desire to bleed out in my friend’s arms in a fuck-a…police station cell. I may not remember everything from that night but I know Murphy yelled until his voice went hoarse when we realized how serious things were but they still did nothing.” Wallace nods, clearly angry but not at Bellamy, more like at what he was reading before him.

“Did you go to the hospital when you were bailed?”

“No, I couldn’t afford that so…my friend Clarke helped my mom bring a doctor in.” he briefly turns to give her a smile and she blushes at that, especially when she feels Wallace’s eyes on her, brows raising in curiosity, lips pursed in a knowing smile.

“And as I see you still haven’t recovered completely?” Wallace nods to his sling and Bellamy gives him a shrug.

“I’m doing better.” Bellamy lies. 

Clarke can see from her place that he swayed on his feet and tried to keep his balance by leaning on his good side too much. 

It was clear that this whole thing took it’s toll on him and Clarke couldn’t wait till it was over so they could take care of him.

Wallace can see Bellamy’s stubbornness first hand so he smiles once more when he rubs the back of his head and then moves his glasses back high on his nose as he picks up another folder. 

This one Clarke recognized, because it was blue and Jackson gave it to them once he was done with all the tests and reports on Bellamy’s condition.

It was clear that he was torn here and Clarke considered that to be a good thing, it meant they still had a chance.

“I think both you and I are quite tired, Mr. Blake, so I’d like to take an hour of recess before we convene again and I give you my decision.” Wallace finally announces as he uses his gown to announce the end of the hearing for the moment being and stands up to leave the room.

A moment later Bellamy’s walking to them and after a brief encounter with Josephine and Simone, who made snarky remarks like “Your friend’s a goner, Clarke” or “Your son will pay for trying to steal after we feed you for all those years, Aurora.” Clarke pulls the older woman aside and they approach the bars, trying to leave the Lightbournes behind them.

Only then does Clarke see how hard Bellamy’s struggling to walk. Jaha must notice it too because he pulls the small wooden barred door separating them and grabs his arm. 

Bellamy violently sways and his good hand ends up on his chest while he leans heavily on the lawyer. His head hangs low and when he tries to walk, his knees buckle.

“Bellamy!” Aurora slides under his side to support him and when Clarke realizes how hard he’s struggling to breathe and how pale he seems, she shivers.

“Let’s get him to the benches over there, come on.” Jaha suggests when they start basically dragging him outside the court room so they could make a turn for the right and head to the thankfully empty benches near the windows and close to the bathrooms.

“Bellamy, Bellamy come on!” Aurora picks his chin and pats his cheeks while he struggles to keep his eyes open. “That’s right, good, you’re good. Talk to me.”

His hand ends up on his chest again and Clarke sits on his other side reaching for his neck to check his pulse only to find it to be too fast.

“It hurts.” he manages after a moment and reaches to loosen his tie but his hands are trembling really hard and Clarke quickly moves them away so she could unwrap the tie and unbutton the top buttons of his white shirt. 

His sling must be making him really uncomfortable too, so she quickly moves it over his head and his bad arm falls lifelessly on his side.

“I know what this is.” Aurora utters when she frantically grabs her purse and starts digging in for something while Clarke helps him lean his head back and reaches to take his hand.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Jaha asks and Clarke who had completely forgotten about him realizes he’s standing beside her, completely terrified.

“Wait, just give me a second-” Aurora says when she finally finds a small and narrower orange bottle and quickly opens it up to spill two pills in her hand. “Come on, Bellamy, come here” she moves his head down and puts them in his own “Under your tongue. Don’t swallow, but suck on them, okay?” she holds his hand and stares in his eyes long enough to be sure he understood her and watches him take them in.

“Good boy.” she whispers and only now does she let the tears fill her eyes. She carefully maneuvers his head over her chest but Clarke’s hand never leaves his though his fingers are lifeless in hers.

They wait like this for a while, Clarke doesn’t know how long. Jaha goes to grab them some water and something sweet for Bellamy to eat under Aurora’s orders and when Bellamy’s chest finally stops heaving and struggling so much she watches her move her fingers to his neck and breathe in relief.

“I think it’s a little better.” Clarke checks using his wrist and counts the seconds on her watch before she too, nods.

“Still fast but…yes, I think you’re right..”

“I’m…okay.” Bellamy utters in another minute when he must’ve finally swollen the pills. His face is still very pale and he seems weak but Aurora holds him up and Clarke doesn’t want to know what would happen if he leaves her side. 

However, she’s surprised when his mom forces him to sit up.

“Come on, we need to get you back to your feet.” she whispers close to his face but throws Clarke a look suggesting she knows what she’s doing “I know you’re tired, but it’ll help you breathe better.”

He nods and when his head leaves her chest he sways a but but manages to hold on his own. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what has happened-all the emotions from the day must’ve been too much for his heart to handle and now he was a barely breathing, barely sitting mess. 

He couldn’t go to juvie, Clarke thought, he needed to be in an environment when if needed, he could get help right away. 

He wasn’t fine at all and she remembers Jackson’s words from a few days ago after they were done with all their tests and he talked to Aurora and her in the hallway while Bellamy left the building angrily to smoke outside but she can’t dwell on that now so she just shakes her head trying to command all the bad thoughts to leave her and held onto his hand with all her strength.

“We should get him to the bathroom, splash some water on his face.” Aurora tells her next and Bellamy doesn’t seem to have the strength to protest because he lets them support him to the male’s bathroom and his mom carefully washes his face while Clarke’s body is positioned on his right, keeping him standing.

Once they’re done, they turn him around and Clarke yet again admires Aurora’s strength in those moments-how she knew exactly what he needed and how she could help him. 

Of course, she had also experienced the very same things herself but Clarke wasn’t sure they could’ve done this without her.

They wipe his face off with some paper towels and by the time they’re done he seems to be doing a lot better.

“You good?” Aurora asks him when they lead him outside again this time without having to support him too much and they carefully sit back down on the bench.

“I am.” he promises.

“Has this happened before?” she asks and he gives her a slow nod which makes her squeeze her eyes shut probably because she felt guilty she didn’t know.

“Here, I got you some water” Jaha appears out of another hallway and hands him a bottle and a granola bar which he doesn’t want to eat but they force him to. 

“We have only about ten minutes before judge Wallace comes back so we should go to the court room.”

“Let’s just give him another minute.” Clarke begs Jaha but Bellamy who’s cheeks have regained their color, shakes his head.

“I’m good. We can’t run away from this, we have to face it.”

“You’ll be okay.” his mom says, burying her fingers in his hair and kissing his cheek “I’m so proud of the way you spoke to the judge.”

“You are?” he asks surprised, turning his head to her.

“We both are.” Clarke reassures rubbing his thumb over his hand. “You were honest with him.”

“And that’s either going to save him or be the end for him.” Jaha chimes in and tiredly runs his hand through his face. “Come on, kid. Let’s go.”

They walk back to the room and Clarke knows that Aurora and her are smothering him too much, refusing to let go of his elbows and helping him walk though he didn’t need that. 

Clarke doesn’t let herself relax until he’s sitting on his chair next to Jaha and she itches once again that she could be next to him and hold his hand when they hear what Wallace had decided.

When the bailiff announces the judge’s presence they all stand up and Clarke finds herself begging whatever it was out there in the universe that would save this boy.

“After carefully reviewing the case of Blake verses the Lightbournes” Wallace begins voice steady and commanding “I’ve come to a fair and I believe just decision that should satisfy both sides.”

Bellamy locks his hands behind his back and throws his mom and Clarke a hopeful look, as if he was desperate to comfort them in this moment in which his entire future was being decided.

“Though Bellamy Blake tried to steal from Mr. and Mrs. Lightbourne because he was pressured by the circumstances of his upbringing, he still committed a crime and as such his actions need to be held according to the law.” he begins and Clarke feels her legs shake so hard that she has to lean on the wooden bars before her. 

“However, I had taken into consideration the fact that he has a chronic disease and was recently severely hurt which is why I’ve decided that he is to spend only two months in the Mount Weather juvenile detention center.” Aurora cries out at that and Bellamy sways on his feet so hard he needs to lean on the table to hold himself upright. 

Clarke grabs Aurora’s arm and squeezes it hard while she watches the judge with mouth half opened.

This can’t be happening to him.

“I believe there Mr. Blake will learn how important hard work is.” Mount Weather, Clarke thinks, Mount Weather, she had heard of it before. 

It was a detention center where kids were forced to actually do real work in the hopes of making real and honest people out of them. 

When they talked about the possibilities of Bellamy ending up in juvie, though, Jaha had said that Mount Weather is a good option even if it mean harder living conditions as the place was literally located two hours away from their town, up in the mountains, because even if the guards were strict there were less fights between the kids and he’d be safe.

As far as she knew, they were forced to make glass and plastic bottles, tin cans, fold cardboard boxes, things that weren’t too stertorous but were still good practice for kids without a clear path before them which is what Wallace must’ve seen in Bellamy.

Still…Bellamy was never supposed to end up in a place like that. Not the way he was in.

“I’ll personally seek that he receives his medication on regular basis and that he’s examined by a doctor at least once a week.” Wallace continues but Clarke’s shaking his head. 

This was all bullshit, he couldn’t guarantee what would happen to him once he got inside, he couldn’t know if what he commands will actually be executed. 

People treated kids like Bellamy with despise and utter hatred and that scared the shit out of her. 

“Once he’s out, Mr. Blake will serve six months of community work and pay the Lightbournes $1200 worth of damages.”

Clarke can hear Simone protest about that, clearly finding it not to be enough for everything Bellamy has done to them but she can’t care. 

Her focus is all on Bellamy who has seemed to have gathered himself somewhat together but despite his mom calling his name, he refused to turn and face them.

“I hope that you’ll learn from your mistakes and use this time to think about your future, Mr. Blake.” Wallace adds before he picks up his gown. 

“Please, bailiff, escort him to the detention room.” Bellamy’s taken by the elbow and before they know it, he’s already out the courtroom. 

Wallace gathers the files before him and turns to Aurora and Clarke. 

“You have ten minutes to say your goodbyes before he’s taken away.”

Aurora, the strongest woman that Clarke has ever met, crumbles back on her seat and covers her face with her hands while she tries to stop her tears from falling. 

Clarke briefly hugs her and tries to prevent herself from crying too but it really is too hard so she ends up staining Aurora’s nice flowery shirt before the woman pulls away.

“We need to go to him.” she says brushing her face away and plastering her serious and collected expression on, trying to get herself together for her son. 

Clarke wishes she could do the same but when they are led inside the room and she sees Bellamy just standing there completely devastated, she can’t help but rush and throw herself in his embrace.

It’s not fair to him, she thinks. 

He should be the one falling apart. It’s wrong that it’s his strong arms holding her together, preventing her from breaking into a thousand pieces, it’s not right. 

She buries her nose in his shoulder and squeezes her eyes shut, wishing that they could go back to this morning, when they woke up at five am and just held each other while they watched the sun rise through his window and felt at peace. 

He made a joke about her toes still freezing when he touched them and she tugged a lose curl of his to get back at him before he poked her ribs and made her giggle. 

They rolled all over the bed, fooling around like children until they were out of breath and simply laid on their backs and stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

“It’s okay, princess. I’ll be fine.” he whispers in her ear but she refuses to let him go. 

She feels Aurora come behind them and touch her shoulder carefully and Clarke hates herself because of course, she needs to say goodbye to him too.

“Hey, mom.” she pulls him to her and holds him tight and she can see how hard it is for him not to let his tears go. When she pulls away she holds his face in her hands and looks him in the eyes “I need you to promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”

“I will.”

“No fights, no disobedience. You listen to what these people say and you lay low until you’re out, alright?”

They hear the door open and close fast behind them and Clarke is afraid they’ve already come to get him but when she turns around she finds Jaha stuffing a bunch of papers in his black case as he approaches them. 

She’s mad at him, though she knows this isn’t his fault, but she wishes there was more they could’ve done for Bellamy. 

She wishes they didn’t fail him…that she hadn’t failed him.

“I was clearing out some of the details with Wallace” he explains quickly “I’m sorry that it got to this but we knew it was a possibility. I think he truly believes he’s doing you a favor” Clarke huffs at that and Bellamy smiles at her pout, the last genuine smile she ever saw of him. 

“You could still come out earlier for good behavior so you should really listen to your mom here.”

“What will they have him do?”

“I don’t know yet but I’ll come see you in a week and if there’s anything you need I’ll make sure you get it. I doubt they’ll give you something too strenuous considering your condition but even if that’s the case we can file a complain and make arrangements.” Bellamy nods at that.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done.” he reaches out and Jaha shakes his hand.

“Can we come visit him when you go or do we have to wait longer?” Aurora asks but before she can get an answer Bellamy interrupts her.

“I don’t want you coming.” he says seriously “Either one of you.”

“Bellamy-” Clarke speaks up the same moment his mom protests as well.

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you out there on your own.” she cuts him off but he only furrows his eyebrows.

“You won’t be. I think it will be better for all of us and you heard Jaha, I can get out earlier.”

“Bellamy, will you listen to yourself? How do you want us to just-”

He smiles and pulls her to his chest again, running his fingers through her hair and kissing the top of his head.

“I’ll be fine, princess.” he whispers just when they hear the door open again and this time Clarke knows it’s not Jaha, not with those heavy steps and the voices telling Aurora that they need to get going. 

She stubbornly buries her head closer to his chest, listens to his broken heart beat in his chest, his lungs forcing air in, keeping him alive and she refuses to let him go because she’s afraid…she’s so afraid that she might not see him again. 

“Remember what you promised me?” he whispers and she looks up, eyes full of tears “Mom and O?” she nods but still refuses to disentangle herself from him.

When she feels someone’s strong arm pulling her away by the shoulder she just holds him stronger.

“Come on, please, don’t hurt her” he begs raising his arms up in the air and at the loss of his touch on her back she shivers. “Please, just a minute.”

“We have to go.” the officer says “Miss, would you please move away?” the man is gentle with her in a way he’s not with Bellamy.

“No” she whispers but when she feels him pull her head up, hold her face in his chest, she forces her eyes to meet his and he leans down to kiss her forehead.

“I’m not worth your tears, princess.” he whispers when he brushes them away with his thumbs and when he looks at her she finds this strange peace and calm in his eyes, so she commands herself to be brave for him.

The guards must use this moment of weakness to pull her away from him and before she knows what’s happening, they are twisting his arms behind his back, which makes him wince from the pain in his shoulder, and cuffing his wrists as they start pushing him to the door.

“Bellamy!” she fights against the person holding her back but no matter how hard she struggles, the guard must be really strong because the only thing she ends up doing is finally give up and fall on her knees. 

That’s when Aurora comes by her side and pulls her head to her chest.

“Oh, sweet girl.” she whispers when she rocks her back and forth “You fell for him, didn’t you?” she asks quietly but Clarke doesn’t have it in her to answer. 

The pain was too strong, her tears wouldn’t stop and it felt like her heart was falling into a million pieces.

Was that what it was like for Bellamy when his heart gave up on him, she wondered, and if it was indeed so, _then who’d hold him up when it did?_


	8. The Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, here it is, the next chapter and quite a long one! I hope you'll enjoy it! I added Epistolary as a tag cause there are letters here and there in this chapter and I think maybe the next one too! Hope you won't mind that! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

A few weeks later just as he’s getting ready for his morning shift, putting on his blue jump suit and ruffling his messy hair, the post guard passes by, pushing up a tray with books and letters when he reaches through the bars and hands him a white envelope. He furrows his eyebrows at him confused but when Lee gives him one of his giant signature smiles, he steps forward.

“Letter for you, Blake.” he announces and it seems so surreal to Bellamy that he stays there for a second just staring at the white envelope in confusion before Lee shakes his hand impatiently at him and he remembers to use his hands. “Come on, Blake, I don’t have all day.”

“Thanks, Lee.” he mumbles when he takes the envelope in shaky hands but fears actually looking down and reading the words. 

“Anything to read or are you still on the Iliad?”

“I’m good, Lee.” Bellamy promises with a light smile and watches the guard pass him by, trudging his metal card and yelling other kid’s names. 

It’s been two weeks since he first set foot in Mount Weather juvenile detention center, the first of which had been really tiring. He was placed in a cell with another kid, Sterling who was also in for theft and though he was more or less a jokster, he was kind and he told him all there was to this place.

They woke up every morning at five, had breakfast, then an hour either outside or in the gyms, after which they got to work which didn’t end till five. 

His first week was spent getting trained by one of the other kids, Miller who was actually really cool and took Bellamy more or less under his wing. They were making plastic and glass bottles, all sorts of caps or metal cans. It wasn’t so hard and most the time they could be sitting while they passed the different parts onto each other.

At first Bellamy was assigned to one of the machines which meant he had to use his hands a lot and that pained his shoulder. He never complained about it, despite the fact that his arm started shaking really bad because of the strain but when Jaha came in at the end of the first week, he send out all additional documents to the warden and when they found out he had a sick heart, they moved him into a sitting position at the end of a long line where he basically had to screw the taps of plastic bottles and put them in boxes which later he and Miller carried to a warehouse.

The work wasn’t hard and though his body was mostly still in pain, he dealt with it quite well. It was the sadness and loneliness that really took their toll on him. He grew quiet and he realized he craved peace and quiet so Sterling’s constant blabbering annoyed him sometimes and all the younger kids joked that he was a grumpy old man.

But he loved them still. In just a few weeks, he grew fond of Monty and Jasper, who were caught for carrying and distributing drugs as well as Monroe and Harper who reminded him of Octavia with their light girl-ish chatter about missing nail polish or asking him to braid their hairs when they found out that he could.

He and Miller were so alike-they both liked the quiet, they worked really well together and talked only when necessary.

Sometimes they’d discuss books-Miller was fond of Shakespeare and when he found out Bellamy liked mythology and Greek tragedies, he smiled like he had just found his best friend.

They just clicked and Bellamy liked it because they could understand each other with just a look, he didn’t have to use words, he didn’t need to speak up.

They had basically taken the rest of the kids on their floor under their wing. Bellamy always gave half his breakfast to Jasper who was always hungry and Miller helped Monty finish his assignment for the day.

Bellamy suspected he liked the kid but he wouldn’t ask, he didn’t have to-all it took was one look at them and he could tell. Just like when Miller asked him if he has someone out there Bellamy had shook his head but his friend had known.

Bellamy avoided thinking about his mom and his sister, but most of all he tried to push all thoughts of Clarke away. He had gotten it into his head that if he wants to make it out of this place, he needed to push his feelings away and just endure it.

But no matter how hard he tried, when he went to bed and the lights were turn out, he’d close his eyes and he’d see her-her smile, her hair shining like the sun, her beautiful eyes full of tears because of him and he’d want to feel that hug, that last hug.

Not the first one where she threw herself in his embrace out of fear, out of anger, out of desperation to keep him with them but that second one-the one where she held him so tight as if she was trying to pour all her strength into him and keep him whole.

_She didn’t know he was already in pieces._

But in those moments he’d hug himself with his arms, wrap them around his wanky torso, feel his ribs and imagine that warmth because it was so cold everywhere around them and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

Jaha had turned out to be right-the place maybe wasn’t the worst out of all of those out there. It was true that the guards were strict but most of them weren’t too mean except for Emerson, their supervisor who made their live a living hell.

The work was a lot but Bellamy assumed that was the main goal of this place-exhaust them, teach them hard work so when they went back to the real world, they’d know right and honest work from theft and illegal possession. The reason why there weren’t many fights or outbreaks like Jaha had said back at the courthouse, was because the kids were so exhausted from the day’s work that they simply went to bed and passed out.

That was, Bellamy assumed, another reason why the place was one of the best detention centers in the state.

The food wasn’t scarce but it wasn’t too much yet eating was really the last on Bellamy’s agenda. They had Sunday’s off and they had some activities arranged though not all of them were mandatory so you could spent the day lying in bed and catching up on your rest like most of them did.

Bellamy liked playing basketball with Miller who was the only one of his circle of delinquents that knew he had a sick heart and he always asked him if he’s sure to which Bellamy waved his hand and threw the ball at him.

He liked playing-it made him feel free, release some of the anxiety and tension and though his heart protested at it sometimes leaving him weak and breathless for an hour after, he still didn’t stop.

He stared at the envelope now and when he read Clarke’s name in the upper left corner he swallowed hard.

They still had half an hour before their shift started and Sterling was for once away, getting some shots in the infirmary so he collapses back on his bed and stares at it for a moment too long.

He contemplates leaving it unopened, never responding.

After all, wasn’t she better off without him in her life? But then…his heart made that tug and his fingers itched for that warmth so he turned it up and opened it up.

His eyes filled with tears when he saw the first two words.

_Dear Bellamy,_

_It has been two weeks since you went to juvie but it feels as if it has been two years. I know you probably wasn’t expecting that letter but you didn’t really leave me or your mom a choice when you told us we couldn’t come visit you._

_We were holding onto hope that you’ll change your mind and include us in your visitor’s list but after Jaha came by your house last week after paying you a visit and assured us that your opinion hasn’t changed, I had to do something._

_Well this is it._

_I don’t know if you’ll even open that letter and if you do and if you read it, if you’ll ever respond but I realized that this is not for me or about me._

_This is for **you.**_

_I think no matter how hard you try to keep us safe, we’ll never stop thinking about you or forget you._

_My thoughts always go to where you are, wondering how you’ve been, what your day was like._

_I know we have known each other a short while and I have never actually told you this but Bellamy…you are my friend and as such I can not simply shut off my feelings and forget that an hour, a day, a week ago you were here with me, talking about "The Iliad" or playing chess with me._

**_You matter to me, Bellamy._ **

_You matter **so** much. I wish you knew that…I wish you understood it. _

_But I’ll never stop saying it, **I will never give up.**_

_Anyway, with that out of the way, I guess I can go on and tell you how things are around here since I’m sure you’re wondering._

_I’m currently sitting on your kitchen table. Your sister is sitting in your mom’s lap and they’re practicing on her reading. She’s getting better and better and her handwriting though not really neat, has improved._

_When I picked her up from school the other day, her teacher praised her, said she wrote the best essay on her personal hero in the entire class. In case you’re wondering…she chose you._

_You are that little girl’s whole world, Bellamy._

_And she doesn’t even know where you are. Your mother didn’t want her to worry so we told her you’re going to be working construction in another town for two months._

_She asked me if you’ll come back with gifts or if you’ll send her post cards and in the heat of the moment I said yes, of course, so now we’ll have to figure that out but…I couldn’t break her heart._

**_I hated lying to her, Bell._ **

_Which is why I don’t want us to lie to each other, not in those letters, at least. I understand why seeing us may be a lot for you, I accept that maybe this way, you think you’ll be able to survive this place and come home in one piece but if you choose to respond to this and if we keep it going I want us to be truthful._

_About anything-the good and the bad, the pain and the hurt. I don’t want you to hide from me._

_The truth is that I know how much you’ve always tried to pull up a brave front for your mom and sister, so much that it became a mask you got used to carrying around but let me tell you Bellamy-I see through it. **I saw through it from the moment dad and I found you in our garage.**_

_I don’t know how it happened, but I looked into your eyes and all I could see was kindness and goodness and that fire…that fire to keep going, to never stop fighting. It’s in you._

_It’s how I know you’ll survive this awful place._

_So here’s the truth-it has been hard for us, all of us._

_I know your mom tries to hold on and keep up that same cool appearance that you so fervently hold on to but when Octavia and I were watching cartoons the other night and your sister fell asleep in my arms, I heard her crying in her room. I didn’t know what to do, wasn’t sure if she’ll want me to comfort her, so I just stayed there where I was, with O asleep in my embrace and held onto her tight, because I felt like this is the best I could do-be there for your sister when she couldn’t be._

_The good news is that she’s actually doing better. We went to Jackson’s clinic the other day and he told us that the new medications are clearly working. There was still some to be desired-she has to gain more weight and rest as much as she still can, but her heart beat was stronger and her blood pressure wasn’t as high._

_When it comes to work, I’m trying my best to scold her if I see she’s overtiring herself so rest assure, I am following up on my promise-I’ll take care of her and O._

_Other than that, there’s nothing that much different in my life (except for the lack of your presence in it)._

_My dad was away on another business trip last week but we spent the weekend together. He asked me to tell him about you and your family and though I think…he had his reservations, being a dad and all (also you trying to steal our car and breaking his nose wasn’t doing you any favors), he was happy that I wasn’t so alone when he was away._

_Actually, he met your mom last Sunday and she invited us both to dinner. We had the best time and he bonded a lot with Octavia who simply jumped in his lap while he drew her a model of an airplane that they are to build the following week._

_I_ _am so happy to see my dad smile more, especially after everything that has happened with mom and your sister…well I think it’s safe to say that he’s going to spoil the hell out of her just like he did with me when I was her age._

_Enough about me. Please, tell me how things are there and be honest. When we asked Jaha to give us any details, he said that you didn’t talk too much because you had to go back to your shift._

_Is work hard? How does your day go? Have you made any friends in there?_

_Something else-Jaha told us your heart medications were delayed so you skipped almost the entire first week. I hope you got them by now and you’re taking them regularly. If something’s not okay, please call him, let him know and we’ll do our best to help you._

_I hope your shoulder doesn’t hurt too much and that your ribs are better._

_Make sure to eat and drink lots of water._

_I can’t imagine what life is in there but honestly, Bell…whatever it is, no matter how hard it gets, please, never forget that someone out there is waiting for you._

_Love,_

_Clarke._

_P.S I am attaching a drawing of O’s on the second page. She’s very excited about your opinion so if you never answer me, please at least…send her something, even if a few words._

He stares at the last words for a while, rereads them over and over and over again and when he bites his lips so hard that it draws blood, he finally closes his eyes and lets the tears roll down his face.

He can’t allow himself the courtesy of crying. If someone saw him, he’d become the mock of the place, everyone would make fun of him and bully him so bad he’d have to fight his way out of hell every day and he promised his mom he won’t do that.

That he’ll keep his head down and do as he’s told.

So he brushes away at his cheeks with the sleeves of his jumper and swallows down his sobs.

Closing his eyes, he commands his heart to quiet down and his lungs to contract-in and out, in and out, breathe…just breathe.

He doesn’t even realize he’s whispering it to himself until he calms down. For a moment there, he can feel that same painful squeeze on the left, that tightness of his chest, like the one he experienced after the hearing, but it’s only there for that minute when he feels like he’s falling down a dark hole and he can’t get out.

Except, when he opens his eyes and he stares at the words before him with blurred vision, he can. He does.

He checks the drawing O made-it’s of their house and three small stick figures in the yard before it. A boy was holding a little girl’s hand, she had the same clothes O did-red shirt and blue washed out dress over it. By the porch stood what must be his mom in her old flowery dress with a big smile on her face.

He turned it around and saw Octavia’s uneven writing.

_We miss you, Bell. Come home son._

_P.S Bring me a presant._

He covered his mouth with his hand and chocked on another sob but forced himself to overcome it faster than the last one, knowing he didn’t have much time to waste. He heard the warning bell that announced he only had fifteen more minutes before the shift started but for once he couldn’t care.

He carefully folded the paper back in the envelope and stared at her name for a few more moments when he heard some noise coming from the hallway and quickly stood up so he could shove it under his mattress and try to get himself together.

“Come on, Blake, time to go!” Emerson, his supervisor opened up the cell, his baton as usually pointed at Bellamy, in warning.

Bellamy follows him out in the hallway but he’s so lost in thoughts that Emerson kicks him a couple of times to remind him he needs to keep walking.

When he makes it inside the big hall, he’s still picturing his little sister in his mother’s lap, struggling to read and Aurora praising her, running her hand down her hair while Clarke watches them sitting on a chair opposite of them, maybe trying to capture the moment in a drawing and smiling at the familial moment, one that she maybe never truly had as a kid with her mom.

His heart aches, god it aches so much, pain so much stronger than the physical one. His chest is heavy and his eyes, he tries to keep them dry but every now and then, he has to swallow down his tears.

He doesn’t even notice Miller’s questioning look or the greetings Jasper and Monty give him.

He makes it to the end of the line with Emerson cursing him behind and pushing him to his chair, barking something in his direction. But he has no conscious memory of how he gets onto his work-the way he picks the bottles from Miller, puts the caps on and then places them in the boxes.

His hands hurt, his whole body does, his heart is trumping in his chest so loud he’s afraid. A shiver runs down his spine when he realizes he forgot to take his meds this morning and he quietly curses.

But it’s his hands that are betraying him today-they shake so much and the pain in his shoulder is so stabbing and strong that it feels as if he’s been shot an hour ago.

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?” Miller asks him quietly when he passes him another bottle and his hand shakes so hard he almost drops it.

“It’s nothing.” Bellamy promises.

“You look pale. Maybe we should ask Emerson to take you to the infirmary.”

“No…no I’m okay.” but even to himself his voice sounds weak and shaky.

He reaches to take another bottle from Miller but drops it and makes a mess on the floor. That didn’t happen often, but when it did, Emerson would come by and hit you either in the back or the hands with his baton as a warning. Three times and you got a punishment-either solitary confinement or manual work.

“Shit, man.” Miller curses quietly when the noise of the broken bottle echoes in the hall and Emerson, who’s been grumpier than usually today, comes by and without any trace of emotion, hits Bellamy in the ribs with his baton.

It’s so strong, he buckles in two, bites his lips so hard they draw blood and he tries really hard not to make a sound but a whimper still escapes his throat and it must be loud because both Jasper and Harper who sit opposite of him, throw him worried glances.

“Did you say something, Blake?” Emerson leans between Miller and Bellamy, waiting for a complain.

He hated kids talking back. If there was a way to make him mad, it was to complain. Even the slightest of moans were rewarded with another hit and if you cried like Jasper once had, he’d grab you by the collar and drag you to the door outside, make you sit on your knees for hours until you passed out. 

“No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. One more break and you’re out.”

Bellamy nods and takes the next bottle out of Miller, his hand shaking even harsher because of the blow from Emerson, who chose his bad side to punish him with.

Of course, the guard knew all there was about them, their strengths and weaknesses.

His favorite was pressing as hard as he could on their bad spots until they caved and he watched them suffer. There was something inhumane in his look when they ended up on the ground and he still hit them over and over until all there was to them was a crying broken mess. When he first met Miller, he had told him that if he ever gets punished, the best is to try and pass out.

Then Emerson would get bored and leave him be. So far Bellamy’s only been hit and he tried really hard not to think about the fact that one day, he may be punished by this man.

He didn’t want it to be today.

_God, he didn’t._

When Miller passed him the next bottle, he grabbed his wrist and helped him hold it.

“Bellamy, you should ask to go to the infirmary.”

“No.” Bellamy shakes his head as he struggles with his task but manages to put the cap on and place it in the box.”He’d never let me go.”

“Bellamy-”

“It’s okay. I’ve been through worse, I can do this.” Bellamy promises and he tries to get himself together as he keeps the line going.

He tries to focus on his sister, his mom…Clarke. Buries himself in thoughts in all the things he wants to tell her and all of those he’s not certain he should.

He imagines himself arguing with her over a chess game, then reading her _The Iliad_ and then realizing, when he takes a moment to look up, that she’s fallen asleep, half slumped on the bedside board by his feet, hands resting loosely in her lap, mouth open just a tiny bit as she drooled. 

He was so fond of her in those moments because she was all the light there was to the universe in them, all the stars in his dark sky. There was softness in her, beauty too and he had itched on so many of those occasions to reach and hold her hand-nothing else, just hold her hand, close his eyes and try to feel whole, piece all that was so broken inside him, together if just for a second and breathe-in and out.

It’d be easy-his heart wouldn’t feel so heavy in his chest, his shoulders wouldn’t hurt from all the responsibilities, he could smile, he could feel warm too and everything would be alright.

He had been lucky enough to feel like that when he was held by her the night before the hearing.

Her cold body pressed to his warm one, him hissing and complaining when he felt her toes between his legs, itching to feel better. He had protested then, told her she’s a goddamn icicle but she didn’t know how good it felt to him to have someone wrapped around him, have something give them their love.

He was a tiny burning planet and she was the moon orbiting around seeking gravity.

She didn’t know, she was what grounded him, what made him whole.

Bellamy wasn’t sure when he started falling for her.

Was it when she held his broken hand in hers and tried to patch it up that first night after his failed attempt to rob them or was it when she took off in the middle of the night to find a doctor for his mom, held her hand and helped her sit up with love and care?

Or maybe it was when he was shot and she was hovering over him, worriedly dabbing bandages at his bleeding shoulder promising him it will be fine but that he had to stay awake.

And maybe…just maybe it was later when he was in a half-awake half-dream state, the room was barely lit and he was struggling to breathe from the pain and the fever running through him, but she had leaned down to kiss his forehead and tell him no matter what, she’s not going anywhere.

_But did he deserve it? Did he deserve the moon? Did he deserve her presence?_

“Bellamy-” Miller yells his name a second too late just when he realizes his fingers aren’t wrapped tight enough around the bottle he’s handing him and a moment too late, there comes the piercing sound of the glass hitting the floor once again.

Heavy boots rush in their direction and when Miller meets his eyes, he doesn’t find any fight left in Bellamy, only pain and acceptance.

“That’s it, Blake, you’ve really screwed up today.” he grabs him by the collar and yanks him up of his chair only to throw him in the ground so hard, Bellamy ends up with his hands buried in the glass before them “Pick it up! Then you’re cleaning the room when everyone’s done working.”

The room itself was so big, it took up at least two floors of cells. Bellamy would need hours to wipe it clean and he probably won’t be done until after midnight if not later considering his physical condition and how slow he’d be. 

“Sir,please, he’s-” Miller tries but that just earns him a hit from Emerson. 

“Do you want to join him, Miller?” Bellamy, though already bleeding through from the cuts the glass has made, looks up and slowly shakes his head. This wasn’t his friend’s battle, this was his fault alone. He wouldn’t let anyone suffer for his mistakes.

“I said start cleaning, Blake!” Emerson uses his baton on his back and the force of it is so strong, Bellamy ends up falling face down on the floor.

“Please, can’t you see that he’s sick!” Bellamy hears chairs scrape and Jasper’s unusually angry voice filling the silence before them.

That only pushes Emerson to be more vile and rude, because Bellamy feels himself being lifted by the collar and then something else being pressed to his side, but it’s not a baton this time-no, it’s the teaser.

He feels the electricity roam through his body and his heart beats up so hard, he squeezes his eyes so as not to yell and sees white, only white.

His ears ring and his heart beats faster making his chest heavier. He reaches his hand to grab his chest but he’s too weak to do so and at the back of his mind he decides he’ll just wait for it to stop.

I should pass out, he thinks, like Miller told me and for a moment there he feels light, so light he might actually get his wish come true but then he opens his eyes and he sees all his friend’s eyes wide open and terrified.

Bellamy wants to smile, tell them everything’s okay, that it’s not that bad but his heart is trumping so loudly he can’t force himself to speak. 

Emerson lifts him up like a doll once more, only to push his knees back to the glass he broke himself.

“You stay here for as long as I tell you to, you hear me, you little stealing bastard? And when I’m done, you’ll wipe this floor clean with your own damn clothes if you have to, do you understand?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer.

He can’t.

Not even if he wanted to.

The moment Emerson’s hand leaves his back, he sways violently and feels the glass dig through his jumper and into the skin of his knees.

He bites his lips again but a whimper still escapes him and he hates himself for being weak but he uses his pain to ground himself and wills himself to stay in one place.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of good things-his sister, Clarke, his mother, what he’ll write, how he’ll say it and like that, he lets his thoughts overcome his entire being and welcomes the pain, lets it in like good wine that will mix in his blood and make a mess of himself but it’d be a mess he could control.

Or so he thinks.

Emerson scolds the kids, yells loudly until they resume their work and he pins his eyes to the ceiling where to old neon lights flicker as if they’re winking in a mocking way down at him, but he doesn’t see that-he sees that moon-like light and he thinks of a beautiful blond girl with cold toes.

And he smiles.

He has no memories of how he actually managed to wipe that entire room clean and not pass out on his feet.

His hands were covered in tiny cuts from the glass and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to pick any of it out when Emerson had yanked him on his feet once the others were done and shoved the bucket and mop in his hands.

He could barely feel his knees. He knew that there was glass in them too, maybe a bigger piece stuck somewhere under his kneecap and he swayed so hard on his feet that Emerson had to grab him by the collar to steady him every now and then.

When the others had left him there, Emerson had at first followed him around making sure he’s not trying to get away with his task and do it in a sloppy way but then he had been called in the hallway so Bellamy used the opportunity to lean around the walls and the tables in the middle they worked on, catching his breath.

It hurt-his entire body hurt but he felt as if he was moving through the place in a dream-like state.

The pain in his shoulder was making his arm tremble so hard that he had to mostly reside to using his right hand and thus the cleaning truly wasn’t his best.

When Emerson had returned and saw, he hit his back with the baton shook him by the elbow and told him to get it together, but even then, he miss stepped and as a result he got a few more hits in the ribs that made him buckle in two.

He might’ve rebroken his ribs because by the end of it, it hurt to breathe so much, it went black before his eyes.

But still he withstood it, hoping that this punishment won’t result in extending his stay here and that maybe, just maybe Jaha won’t find out and so neither will his mom and Clarke. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry.

“You still have to clean the broken glass, Blake.” Emerson had told him when Bellamy was just about done so he when the guard didn’t give him a broom or anything to swipe it off with, he was forced to kneel again on his hurt knees and pick it up hand by hand, then throw it in the trash. That resulted in a few more cuts on his hands and by the end of it, they were completely covered in blood.

“You’re such a damn mess, Blake.” Emerson had cursed when Bellamy started dripping fresh blood on the floor, making his previous work useless and upon seeing that the guard simply grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him to the exit.

He doesn’t remember the way back to his cell.

The only thing he can recall is that Miller, who was locked in next to his and Sterling’s one, was still awake and quietly called his name. Emerson had hit his fingers gripping the bars and Bellamy tried to shake his head at him, tell him it’s useless but he was barely dragging himself on his feet.

When Emerson pushed him inside he had fallen on the floor and curled up on himself. He thought he should’ve heard Sterling making any kind of noise by now, even if it was snoring, as it was late, but the cell got locked and Emerson finally left which gave Miller the opportunity to press himself closer to the bars and the wall separating them and whisper.

“Bellamy? Can you hear me?” it took him forever to find the strength to talk.

“Yeah.”

“Are you alright? What happened? The bastard didn’t beat you anymore, did he?”

He feels the stabbing pain in his side again and wraps his arms around him, trying to breathe in and out, pace his heart and reduce the pain, even if it was impossible.

“Bellamy-”

“Where’s Sterling?” he asks when the beating of his heart doesn’t completely overwhelm his entire being and he can get a sense of his surroundings.

“Got an early release. They let him out at noon.” he can remember now that he never saw the kid come back from lunch but once more the pain stabs him and this time he’s careless. He lets out a quiet whimper.

“Are you on the floor? You should get yourself in bed.”

“It’s good here…cold.” and it was.

He felt once more as if his body was on fire and he remembers that Clarke told him that when he breaks his ribs he doesn’t just struggle to breathe, but that his temperature rises too.

“You have to take deep breaths.” she has told him “Or your lungs will get sick form the lack of oxygen.” and he had tried then but it was easier.

Now everything hurt so much and in the darkness of his cell, he finally let his tears go.

“Bellamy, come on man, talk to me.”

“I’m fine.” he had choked on a sob and hates himself for showing his weakness so he tries to take a deep breath and repeat it with more confidence “I’m good. I’ve been…through worse.”

“No you’re not good. You have to get yourself on your back. If that bastard broke your ribs, it will only hurt more tomorrow.” when Bellamy doesn’t answer but instead closes his eyes and tries to hold himself together, Miller keeps on “It’s okay. Tomorrow’s Sunday and we’ll help out.”

On their day off the cells got opened and they could hang around together at one place as long as they didn’t create any commotion.

“Jasper has poker night so I’ll watch you beat his ass again, right?”

He smiles to himself, trying to think of something nice like having them all around and knowing that though he misses Clarke and his family, things will be okay, he’ll survive it and go back home.

“I’m tired.” he utters.

“I know…I know you are. Just hold on a bit more, okay? Just fall asleep and tomorrow will be better.”

Bellamy chooses to believe him and when he’s heard his friend retrieve to his bed, he rolls on his other side and tries really hard to get himself on the lower bunk but it hurts to even sit up so he gives up.

He sees the small envelope stick from underneath his mattress, though and he smiles.

With hand bloody and shaky he reaches for it and though every part of his body protests at the movement, he manages to snatch it up and hold it in his trembling hand.

He looks at the name in the upper right corner and though it’s blurry, he knows who it is, he doesn’t have to see it, so he presses it to his chest and falls asleep like this.

* * *

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep but the next thing he feels is hands-strong hands on his back, his shoulder, by his knees. Voices, some confused, some worried and he tries to blink the sleep away.

“He looks like hell.” a squeaky childish voice brings him back to reality.

“Thank you, Jasper, that’s exactly what he needs to hear right now.

“I’m just saying.”

“Let’s get him to the bed.” he can recognize Miller’s hoarse voice anywhere and he smiles at the way he snaps at the others.

He wants to tell them he’s fine, but all he manages to do when they roll him on his back is groan and when he opens his eyes he sees a bunch of faces staring down at him.

“Hey, Bell, can you hear us?” a girl’s voice….Harper. It must be her, gently placing her hand on his chest and shaking him lightly. He wants to tell her it hurts when he breathes, that his heart has quieted down somewhat but still trumps so loudly it rings in his ears, that he can feel the tiny shreds of glass dig deeper into his hands withe very move.

“Jeez, look at his hands…maybe we should take him to the infirmary.”

That wakes him up, his eyes open wide up and he shakes his head violently.

“No! No…no doctors.”

“Aaaand that’s your answer, Jasper.” Miller says with a huff and grabs his hand “You think you can get up, Blake?”

“Yeah…just…can you give me…a second?” he can now focus on Miller’s head that is closer to his face and his friend gives him a quiet nod before he turns to the others.

“We’ll patch him up ourselves. We got the bandages and your…goddamn moonshine.”

“My moonshine is perfect, thank you very much!” Jasper cuts him off, waving proudly a bottle of what on the outside looked like apple juice but Bellamy knew must be another batch of his and Monty’s attempts to make illegal alcohol. 

“You okay man?” Jasper’s eyes fall on him and he must notice how hard he’s struggling to breathe because his usually goofy face is replaced with a concerned one.

“How does he look to you, Jasper, like he’s gonna up and start tap dancing!”

“Well, how do I know? He’s a tough bastard.”

“Isn’t it enough to look at him?” Miller snaps back “That idiot must’ve hit him at least a dozen times yesterday.”

“I’m….fine” Bellamy utters and for once he actually wants to get off this floor but when he struggles to sit up, he falls hard on his back and that only makes the pain in his side worse. 

“You sure look like it” Jasper says mockingly and Miller slaps the back of his head.

“Ouch! What! It’s not like I’m lying!”

“Do you have to be a moron now? Where’s Monty when you need him to keep your dumb ass in check?”

“You’re just grumpy cause you miss your boo.” Jasper teases and this time Miller elbows him in the ribs which again, makes him protest loudly.

If they weren’t careful, Emerson or some of the other guards could catch them and disperse this entire squad.

“What’s…the time?” Bellamy manages to utter when Harper leans down next to him and rubs his arm in support.

“Just before lunch. We were only let out an hour ago but I had to find these two and get us some supplies so we could patch you up.” Miller explains “How do you feel about getting off this floor?”

“Yes,please.” Bellamy manages and Miller motions at Jasper who comes to his other side and they lift him up so that he’s sitting.

He groans from the pain and everything before him goes dark for a second before it clears.

In that short meantime, though, Clarke’s letter, which he’s been clutching really hard all night, the one thing that kept him together and afloat, falls down on the floor.

“Ohhh, what’s that?” Jasper unfortunately is the one to pick it up and Bellamy struggles to clench his hand and try to snatch it away but the fingers on his bad arm feel so numb, he can’t make them move. “A letter! I haven’t written one since fifth grade.”

“Aren’t you still in fifth grade?” Miller jokes and tries to get it away from him when he notices Bellamy’s discomfort.

“Ohhh, Clarke Griffin, who’s that? Your girlfrieeeend.”

“She’s just…” Bellamy utters but a cough interrupts him and he struggles to catch his breath.

“Jasper, come on, give it back.” Miller picks on his battle when Jasper keeps eyeing it with interest and tries reading Clarke’s address. 

“But-”

“Jasper!” Bellamy intervenes and finally manages to snap it away and shove it in his jumper’s pocket “This is personal.”

“Fine, whatever. It’s all covered in blood anyway so, it’s not like I could read anything.” Jasper puts his hands up in the air innocently and gives him his goofish smile, trying to make up for his curiosity. Bellamy wants to smile back in forgiveness but he ends up coughing again and when he pulls his hand away from his mouth he doesn’t know if he spit some or if it’s just the one bleeding from the cuts on his hands.

“Shit man, is that blood?”

“It’s just the ribs, I’m fine.” Bellamy waves his hand when he manages to catch his breath.

He wants to ask them to help him to the bed, remind them of the bigger picture, but he doesn’t have it in him to beg for anything so he simply glances at the cot and Miller thankfully catches his eyes because he elbows Jasper’s ribs in reminder and they quickly lift him up.

“No,no, keep me sitting.” Bellamy asks and simply leans on the cold wall to support himself. He can’t bear the thought of lying down again, not when he could feel his ribs move in pain, his heart trump so loudly. 

“Hey, man, you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Let’s clean that glass away from your hands.” Harper sits by his side and gently takes his hand in hers.

The boys at first hover nervously but then Miller pulls up the only chair they had and turns it around before he sits and leans his arms and head on the back.

Bellamy tries really hard not to think about Clarke cleaning the cut on his hand in that similar manner, only Harper’s fingers were more bony and warm whilst Clarke’s were soft and cold but in a way that he loved just like he did with the floor last night-it gave solace to his burning body.

“You taken your meds this morning?” Miller asks and Bellamy shakes his head.

If the others wonder why he’s taking pills, they don’t ask but he hopes Miller hasn’t mentioned anything about his heart. The last thing he wanted was someone around finding him weak because of that. 

“We brought you food.” Jasper announces proudly when his friend points at the plate on the desk. “Damn it, he really took it out on you, didn’t he?” he asks again when Harper moves to his other hand after picking the glass on his right one and cleaning it up with the moonshine before wrapping it up in something that…wasn’t exactly bandages. It was more like pieces of cloth cut up in short thin pieces.

“That’s an old shirt of Monty’‘s” Miller explains at Bellamy’s questioning look and at that his face falls and he swallows hard. “It was washed and ironed so you don’t have to worry about getting any of his germs.”

“You mean _your_ germs since all you do is snuggle in the broom’s closet and make out for hours” Jasper jokes again which only earns him another slap on the head. “Aw! Harper, I think you’ll have to patch me up too.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re fine.”

“Thank you, guys.” Bellamy utters just when Harper’s about done with his other hand too and moves to his knees inspecting the bloody jumper and all the cuts the glass made.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Yeah, remember how on your first day you kicked that stupid rich kid’s ass and made him promise he won’t touch me again? I owe you for that.” Jasper says somberly and Bellamy smiles.

“It was nothing.

“Hey-”Miller reaches to squeeze his shoulder but the movement makes him wince so he quickly pulls back “We’re in this together, alright, man?”

“I don’t deserve this.” he wants to say but he doesn’t want to ruin everything more than he already has.

Harper pulls out some more of Monty’s shirt and wraps his knees around, ordering him to keep it clean as best as he can.

Then she grabs Jasper’s elbow and pulls him out so they could get lunch.

Miller’s the last one standing and Bellamy knows that the others leaving was intentional as much as they tried to hide it. Clarke was right about one thing in her letter-two weeks felt like two years to him too.

In juvie everything happened fast, a day was like a month, you met people, you got a sense of them-some were mean, others were kind but you had no idea if to trust them and third were laying low.

Bellamy had wanted to be from the latter group-lay low and pretend to be invisible but then Miller had noticed him, sat by him at lunch and never bothered him a lot.

It had been Bellamy’s reason to trust him. His mom used to say-if a person doesn’t talk too much, then they’re worth keeping close for they listen to the universe more than anyone ever does and though it seems they don’t get involved in anything, they are actually the most helpful and patient souls you’ll ever meet. 

She had turned out to be right about that one.

“Eat your food, take your meds and get sleep. If you feel better later, we’ll meet in the common room and play some board games?”

“I’ll be there.” Bellamy promises with a light smile and to prove his point, assure him that he’s fine, he reaches for the plate he left at the desk.

“Do your ribs hurt a lot?”

“I’m fine,Miller. Thank you. For everything.”

Miller sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“If you get worse, I’ll notice and kick your butt to medical myself, okay?”

Bellamy tries to chuckle at that but again, it comes as a cough.

“Sure thing, Miller.” his friend pays one last look at him, checking him from head to toe and when he doesn’t seem to find another place he might be bleeding from or something worse than what he noticed before, he sighs, stands up and heads to the hallway.

“You’re a stubborn one, Blake, you know that, right?”

“Keep hearing it all the time.” Bellamy yells back in his direction and then, only then, does he allow the pain to consume him for a moment. 

He stays there, taking in a few deep breaths, contemplating between simply falling in bed and sleeping it in but then he remembers his friends worried faces and Clarke’s smile so he pushes himself up on his feet and goes to the desk, dragging the chair Miller has left in the middle of the cell.

He picks up a piece of paper from a notebook Sterling or someone before him had left and looks around for the black pen he knows must be around before he finds it under the desk. He bites the cap on with teeth and tests how it feels in his fingers. For a moment, he contemplates how to start, but then decides he shouldn’t think it over or he’ll never make himself actually do this.

_“Dear Clarke,_

his fingers hurt when he holds the pen and he knows that by the end of it, his hand will be probably bleeding through the bandages Harper had so carefully wrapped around. 

_If I have to be honest with you, I wasn’t sure that I’ll actually sit down and write this, mostly because…I wasn’t sure what to say or if I should send anything back, afraid it’d only bring you and mom more pain, instead of smiles and I am sure that I’ll probably fight with myself a few more times before I actually put it in an envelope (if I find one) and get a stamp._

_I’m choosing to believe this is a hopeful message being send out into the universe instead of something dark and miserable. I have to._

_For you and mom, for my sister._

_You know it feels weird to me to even hold a pen and write words down. I tried to think when was the last time I did so and I remembered it must’ve been for homework, which brought the thoughts of school which feels like a lifetime ago. I can’t remember what it’s like to sit in a desk and listen to someone talk about long dead poets or ask me questions or make me write an essay._

_Was it me who lived that life?_

**_I’m just seventeen years old but I feel like I’m seventy._ **

_(Yes you can make your grandpa joke here and when you do, you’ll send your smile out into the universe and I’ll see it, just like I’m doing with this letter now.)_

_Do you know that as a kid I used to write? Has mom told you? I had these stories as a boy. The first essay I wrote was on the subject of autumn in first grade. My teacher then, Miss Julie, had asked my mom in after classes and I thought I had gotten in trouble, but instead she showed her what I had written and told her there’s something in me that makes the words pour out as if a river flows down a mountain and that she had to make sure I nurture it and keep it alive. That I’m talented._

_**Talented.** _

_That seems so funny and unreal to me now but back then I had big brown eyes wide open to the world, full of hope, ready to devour everything. Mom taught me how to read when I was five and I’d stumble through the Iliad every night even if I couldn’t understand a word of what was really going on._

_Mom was so patient with me, never grew tired of correcting me on the words I read wrong but with time, I started learning it by heart so she had to find me other books._

_That’s when we first went to the local library, the one Maya works in, and I remember when I first saw all the shelves and rows of books, I was mouth agape for a long while before I pulled away from my mom’s grip and rushed to see them._

_It was one of my most favorite and joyful memories. I still think of it sometimes. Imagine how this run down place full of broken spineless books looked like to a five year old me, but let me tell you Clarke, all I could see was the universe in my hand-words, so many words, I could not yet pronounce but which intrigued me, made me want to learn, to speak out loud… **to use**._

_We left with five books that day and I was done reading them in two weeks._

_B_ _ack then, as every boy, I assume, I was so immersed in the stories of heroes saving the world, kids having adventures together, friends getting into trouble while evil men tried to stop them from saving the world._

_I was engrossed with fairy tales but I loved the novels too, fantasy was for the rainy days with mom at home where I’d read to her while she cleaned the Lightbourne’s kitchen and O slept strapped to her chest, whoduntis were for the weekends, scary stories were for the fall, romances for the spring, poetry for the summer where everything was bright and beautiful._

_I’d started writing my own short stories. Read them to mom too and she would praise them as much as offer criticism. Even on her most tired days she’d sit with me on her big old bed, pull me to her side and make me read from the yellow ruffled pages full of my blocky ugly letters that you’re now seeing._

_I don’t remember when exactly I stopped writing. I don’t count the essays for school no matter how much my teachers praised those. They restricted me-a subject that someone else imposed on me limited my imagination and no matter how good they thought they were, to me they were grey like the streets on a rainy fall day._

_When they’d ask me in middle school, what I want to be, my answer was always-a writer._

_Funny isn’t it? The way life turns out….here we are now. I’m behind bars, picking up a pen to write you a letter after spending months…if not years silencing that voice._

_I don’t know why I decided I was no good at it or when I realized it. I just knew that I wasn’t enough._

_Just like I’m not enough right now._

_I’m not a good son or brother enough. I’m not a good friend enough. I’m not…enough._

_Maybe along the way I realized that I have nothing to say, I’m not really sure but…I know I feel like this now, which is why it took so much of me to sit down and write this and it is why I don’t want you guys to come here._

_I know you’ll hate me for it…but hear me out. I can not bear the thought of seeing you both worried, wondering how I really am, looking at me and trying to understand if I really am okay, I know you care, you do…but I can’t look in your eyes and see the pain I am responsible for._

_Call me a coward, you have every right to because I am one._

_I don’t want you anywhere near this place, I don’t want you seeing it…seeing me. I am as ashamed of myself as I’ve been in the past few months. This place is dark and I think both you and mom already have enough darkness in your lives._

_However, I will try to call you this coming Sunday. I miss your voices and I want to know how you are. We have those days off, so after breakfast, I’ll try to get myself in line to one of the phones in the hallway. If this letter doesn’t reach you before that time, I’ll still call and if you’re there you’ll pick and if not…then the week after that._

_Now onto your questions-yes, I got my meds and even though they were delayed, I haven’t had any problems whatsoever. I had started taking them and I feel fine, I promise._

_What Jaha said is true-the place isn’t too bad. Yes, I know I said that it was dark but that’s just because I don’t think it can be any other way when there are kids under then age of eighteen locked in a big grey building, forced to work six days a week and have little to no entertainment._

_But that aside-work is not too awful. It’s just us sitting in a long row and passing bottles to one anything until we drop them in a box and then carry them to a storage room. It’s long and it can get boring but when the guards are not hawking over us, we talk and make jokes, try to help pass the time faster._

_I like the work. I think Wallace was right…I think it will help me get back to the way things are when I get out. It truly is a way of learning about hard but honest work. We wake up early every day, then have breakfast, then they let us outside for a walk and then we start work till night fall. After we have dinner (if you have the strength to eat that is…I think it’s made so that you’re so exhausted by the end of it that you simply pass out) and then you can hang in the common room but you’re forced back to the cells by 9:30._

_I like the nights best. They are my favorite as you know._

_I used to have a cell mate, called Stirling but he was actually let out earlier yesterday so now I’m alone until another batch of delinquents come in._

_On the question of friends…yes I think I have found friends. There’s Miller, he was the first one I got to know, he’s in the cell next to mine. I like him because like me…he’s quiet and I think that these days it’s not just that I need it to be peaceful near me but that I just…as I said before, I am not sure I have anything to say._

_It’s weird, Clarke…I feel so hollow inside. No matter what I think or what I feel…I don’t think it truly matters, I don’t think…I want to share it because there is nothing to share. All there is is grief and pain, at least for now._

_But anyway, I won’t dwell into that._

_Besides Miller, who’s a quiet and book-loving soul like me, there are Jasper and Monty-they are two sixteen year old goof balls who got in for possession of weed, as well as Harper and Monroe. Now to be honest with you, I don’t know why they’re here exactly, but they are kind. Miller and Monty have a thing going on, Jasper won’t shut about it. Jas and Harper I assume, had a thing going, but is no longer happening and Monroe is kind of scary sometimes, so much that I think she might murder me but she’s a fierce and loyal friend._

_Miller and I like playing basketball on Sunday. I think that’s my favorite thing of it all. (Before you freak out, don’t worry, I’m not pushing myself too hard.) We get to fool around in the small gym we have while on the other side of the court, there are kids playing various other sports, but Jasper and Monty still cheer at us from the stands, hands in the air, betting on which one of us will score more._

_Miller is the only one out of them who knows about my heart but he still doesn’t let me win easily which is what I love. He doesn’t treat me any differently. I am not a kid with a fucked up heart for him, I am just me…whoever that is and they all accept me-be as it may, a thief, a disappointment, a drop out. They don’t care._

_It’s easy to live in this bubble where there are no expectations to uphold._

_But it’s also the bubble without my mom’s or yours arms around my back. Without my sister laughing as she runs to me once I come home._

_I miss you._

_Don’t you ever go through the day thinking that I have forgotten about you, Clarke._

_Because trust me, all there is in my mind, is your smile._

_I try to push it all away, so damn hard, I try to keep it together so I can survive this place but when I go to bed and close my eyes, the first thing that I see is your smile. I hug myself as pathetic as that may be…and I feel warm._

_Tell me how you are. How has school been? That project with Josephine? What did ever happen there? What about your father, is he still away that often?_

_Thank you for telling me all about Octavia and mom. I’d love if you kept writing me as selfish as that may be. I want to know everything that’s happening with you and them._

_I can’t imagine ….what mom thinks now…what’s going on in her mind. I…I am afraid to do so. But…is she okay? How is her heart? How is work?_

_That is all that I can think of._

_It’s more than I have spoken in the last two weeks._

_Thank you for being you, saving me, as always…even when I don’t deserve it._

_Love,_

_Bellamy._

_P.S Tell O I’ll try to bring her the biggest present I can, even if it may be hard. I’ll put her picture near my bed._

He sighs and leans on the chair, then contemplates on what to do until he folds the pages in a neat bunch and stands up. He hasn’t touched the meal the kids brought but he’s not hungry or even in that much pain at the moment.

He had to find Miller.

He needed an envelope and a stamp.

* * *

Clarke and Aurora are sitting on the kitchen table, phone placed between them, eyes pierced at it, waiting for that one ring.

Thankfully, Octavia’s aunt had chosen to take her out for the weekend, spend some time with her as she missed her ever since she got back home and upon finding that Bellamy will be calling them just yesterday, she had squeezed Aurora’s hand and then pulled her in for a hug, promising she’ll take good care of her daughter so that she can do the same with her son.

Clarke had only gotten the letter on Friday but she had come rushing to the Blake’s house in all her messy high school glory, with her pom poms and her cheer leading uniform which she hated, but still served as a great distraction for Octavia who took them out waving them in the air and opting to play in the background on her own while Clarke sat on the same kitchen chair she was now, hand in her jacket pocket, squeezing the pages with her fingers.

The truth was, she already read it once on the way here, just because she wanted to know which parts were for them all and which were…for her. And god…there was so much that was just for her-the memories of his childhood, the way he felt at the moment, how he couldn’t talk, didn’t find the strength in himself to do so. 

She had to know what she can tell Aurora and what she should maybe keep for herself only.

They had both gotten happy and then…sad. The more Clarke told her about what he said, even read some bits about his life there, the more they realized the reality of the situation.

Until that point it was like they _knew_ that they send him out there to this awful place but they weren’t seeing him. They couldn’t possibly know what was actually happening so with time they kind of got used to the idea of worrying and imagining all the worst scenarios but now…now they knew something.

No matter how little he had dwell on his life there, it was still a whole more than what they were expecting out of him but Clarke feared that he hadn’t been honest, that in his typical Bellamy fashion he had skipped mentioning something or maybe lied altogether. Maybe it was awful, maybe the work was a lot more harder than he made it out to be. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the guards either which led her to believe that either they were horrible to them or he simply didn’t know where to start and how to lie that it was all fine when it wasn’t.

Just as she keeps burying herself in more and more of the awful thoughts, the phone rings and they both jump.

Clarke reaches to squeeze Aurora’s hand and then takes the phone in hand and swipes to the left, quickly turning the speaker on.

”An inmate from Mount Weather juvenile detention center is trying to reach you.Do you accept the charges?”

“Yes, I do.” Aurora says, trying to keep her voice stable. She might be worried, shaky, but she knew how to get it together when things were serious. Once again, Clarke was in awe at her strength.

There was a pause, a crack and then-

“Mom?” there’s no way to express the relief that washed over both their faces once they heard his voice.

“Bellamy-” Aurora’s voice cracks for a second and she covers her mouth.

“Hey, mom.” his voice is warm and hoarse and there’s some background noise, other people talking, some yelling, as if he’s in the middle of a busy New York street and not in juvie. 

“Clarke’s here too.” Aurora announces when she manages to quickly get herself together and grip her hand so that her knuckles go white. 

“In that case, hey, princess.”

“How are you doing, Bell?” she says fondly giving Aurora some time to compose herself. There’s more noise, someone’s loud protests, the connection cracks and she’s afraid they’ll lose him for a moment until he speaks up.

“Sorry, it’s just a bit of a mess around here on Sunday.” they can hear him a bit better now, maybe he was covering the phone with his hand or hidden behind a corner. “We don’t have much time. Tell me how are you doing? How’s O? Mom, are you okay?”

“We’re fine, we’re good. Your sister’s doing great at school. Got another A on her reading. Your aunt’s with her now.”

“And how are you?” he keeps prodding and there’s more noise in the background, guards yelling. 

“I’m okay, the medicine is working its miracles. I get tired a bit every now and then but other than that it’s good.”

“Are you working hard? Clarke, is she working hard?” that makes Clarke and Aurora smile, of course he worried about them so much that he asks his friend about his mom who’s as stubborn as he was, trying to hide the truth so as not to make him worry.

“I’m keeping it in check, I promise.”

“Good, good.” a cough interrupts him and at first it feels to Clarke as if it’s someone else’s but then she realizes that it can’t be…as much as she wishes it wasn’t him, she’s heard it before and she can tell by the sound of it that he’s trying to hide it by coughing in his elbow.

“Are you okay? What was that?” Aurora asks before Clarke can open her mouth to speak up.

“It’s nothing…just a cold.”

“You’re lying.”

“Mom,I’m fine…I promise.” but there’s another cough and she swears she can hear the other kids around him protest for making too much noise so he apologizes. “Tell me more about you guys-”

“No, we need to talk about you. Jaha said that you got your meds, right?”

“I did.”

“And has the doctor checked you yet?” Clarke asks but there’s another cough that he tries to stifle and that makes Aurora’s hand tighten around hers once more. This didn’t sound good. “Bellamy, what’s wrong. Just tell us.”

“Nothing…it’s nothing. I just…I fell and bruised my ribs again a bit. The cough only started last night.”

“You need to take deep breaths.” Aurora instructs. “Have you been to the infirmary? Did you get it checked out?”

“There’s no need for that, it’s just a bruise.” Aurora sighs angrily at that but Clarke tries to keep going, knowing they need as much information as they can out of him.

“On your bad side?”

“Yeah…” Clarke squeezes her eyes shut “But I promise it’s fine. I think it’s really just a cold. We have the electricity cut off at night all the time. I promise, I’ll go to the doctor, okay?”

Aurora exhales at that and Clarke’s sure he can hear it.

“Do you need anything from us? Jaha said that we should send in some money so you can buy stuff at commissary.”

“There’s no need for that.” he assures. “I don’t want to buy anything.”

“What are they feeding you there?”

“Oh you know, the typical crap prison food. It’s fine, mom, I’m used to it by now. It’s sucky but it’s still food. You know I’m not one to complain about that particular aspect.”

Aurora’s eyebrows furrow and Clarke purses her lips. Of course he wouldn’t complain about the food-he was used, growing up, to having anything they could muster up with the minimal products they had. That and…if he kept up on the eating habits he had before he went in there then he was probably barely touching it.

“Anything else? Clothes? Books?”

“Clarke, I’m fine. I have just a few more minutes, so tell me about you. How’s school? Did you choose on a college yet?”

“Are you talking to your girlfriend, Blake?” another voice chimes in near him and the sound of someone slapping another guy’s shoulder could be heard. Or at least that’s what Clarke makes out of it. 

“Fuck off, Miller.” he curses quietly but when he remembers his mom’s listening he adds “Sorry, mom.”

“Right, mom? Who do you think you’re fooling here, I’m no Jasper.” Miller says and it seems they’re struggling for the phone until Bellamy loses “Hey, Clarke, if I wasn’t gay, I’d totally ask you out on a date faster than Blake here can spell his name.”

Clarke laughs and she can hear Bellamy do the same on the other side.

“But you haven’t even seen me, how would you know if I’m worth asking out?” she plays into his game just to lighten the mood a bit.

“Well I assume Blake has good taste. Plus you gotta be prettier than that ugly ass here, there needs to be balance in the universe.”

“Miller, damn you give me the phone!”

“So you could have phone sex? I think not.”

“More like so he can talk to his mother.” Aurora chides in lightly and the line goes silent for a moment.

“Shit, man that really is your mom!” they hear Miller’s worried voice and Bellamy’s laughter that however turns into another cough for a moment there.

“What did you think? That I lied?”

“Well, duh!”

“Blake! Miller! Knock it off or I’ll have you cleaning the hallways all afternoon!” another voice, angrier, colder now joins in and with it, the rest of the chatter and noise around Bellamy, die out. “Blake, your time’s up.”

“No, I have another minute.”

“I said it’s over.” Aurora and Clarke exchange worried looks at that.

“Bellamy-”

“Bell, what’s going on?” they both insist but it seems that the receiver is no longer in his hand.

“Must be a guard?” Clarke whispers and his mom gives her a quiet but sad nod. Her eyes are angry though, in a way that Bellamy got sometimes when there wasn’t enough food for his sister or if the house was too cold or if the roof was leaking.

“Please, I just-” Bellamy tries again but then there’s the loud crack of something hitting the walls, Bellamy and Miller yelling, something falling down. There’s commotion, a mess of noises and then…the line goes silent.

Clarke and Aurora exchange worried looks because they both know that the last thing coming out from the phone was a sound they could so easily recognize and were quite familiar with-a painful sob that could only be unmistakably Bellamy’s.


	9. Your body that can't love you and your will that can't save you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really don't know why I keep posting this story when I know no one reads it but here's another chapter.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

It happens so fast, Bellamy has no idea how it even came over him.

One second he was talking to his mom and Clarke, Miller was fooling around, making fun of him while his cheeks were blushing so hard, he was grateful Clarke couldn’t see him and the next, Emerson was yelling, ripping the old black receiver from his hand and slamming it back on the phone.

He turns around scared, expecting the blow but he’s slow.

Ever since the shooting, ever since his mom insisted that he got treatment, he was so slow on his feet, he felt so tired. Jackson had explained the medication does it on purpose, trying to relieve the strain on his heart, but he never hated it more than in this moment. 

He tries really hard not to scream but still a sob escapes his lips and again, before he can react, Emerson’s hitting him.

This time he manages to put his hand over, try to block it, soften it, but instead the baton hits his hand and his fingers throb.

 _“Stop it! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”_ Miller yells jumping before him, raising his hands in the air.

The rest of the kids scatter away, forgetting all about the phone calls they want to make to their families and rush to hide in the common room behind or back to their cells.

Because one thing was certain-when Emerson got mad, he could beat you to e pulp so hard, you wouldn’t be able to speak your name for a week.

When Bellamy first got here, he heard horrendous stories of boys being beaten up they had to stay weeks in medical and when he got the bad luck of being assigned to the room Emerson usually guarded, he had been terrified though he had tried not to show it.

He has had to fight many times in his life-he wasn’t afraid of that, he could probably punch Emerson as hard as he was using his baton on him but that meant assaulting a guard which on the other hand equaled more time in this god awful place and all he wanted was to **_go home_**. 

“Miller, don’t!” Bellamy tries, holding his bad side, feeling every muscle in his upper body scream with pain. 

“You kids will learn proper behavior or I’ll be damned!” Emerson’s eyes were wide opened and red and he reeked…of alcohol.

That had often happened before. They didn’t know how he came on the job drunk or why but when he was like this, it got worse and no matter how they tried to keep quiet and do everything perfectly, he’d hit them just for the fun of it sometimes.

Bellamy grabs onto Miller’s shoulder and tries to pull him back when he sees Emerson’s swinging his baton but again, he’s not fast enough and it slaps his friend in the face so hard, he sways to the floor, falls on all four and breathes heavily. 

He hits him in the side so Miller falls and gets out of his way before he grabs Bellamy by the jumper and shakes him hard. 

“You little useless piece of shit.” he throws him on the floor and hits him.

**_Once, twice, Bellamy looses count._ **

Everywhere he can on his bad side-his arm, his ribs, he hears them crack, his fingers bleed and he won’t stop.

_“You think you’re better than me?”_

“Let him go!” Miller screams this time pulling away at his shoulders while Bellamy curls up on the floor and grits his teeth so hard he’s afraid he’ll break his jaw. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” another voice, gentler but angry intervenes.

With the corner of his eye Bellamy sees another figure dressed in a white coat approach them. Miller gets tossed off Emerson’s back where he must’ve jumped off for a second and the guard turns towards the other person still fuming at the mouth, gripping his baton and foaming like a wild dog.

“Emerson, what _the fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“This is none of your business, doc.”

“It is my damn business when you beat kids senseless for no apparent reason!” the voice is scary and when he gets closer, Bellamy sees the face of a man with short hair cut and warm black eyes, wearing a doctor’s white coat but standing tall and calm before the guard.

He throws Bellamy a concerned look and he tries to roll on his back and sit up so he’s not as pathetic but when he does, he groans, the pain blinding him.

“They were causing a commotion, I had every damn right to-”

“Save your words!” the man raises his hand and shuts Emerson off.

Bellamy’s never seen the guard’s resolve shaken before and he would’ve smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His eyes roll to his back and he closes them for a second, breathing heavily, struggling to pull air in because of the pain that was literally blinding him. 

“You’ll get to explain yourself to warden Diyoza when I report your ass.”

“Doctor Santiago, you misunderstood the situation.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything, Emerson. You got two kids bleeding in the damn hallway on a Sunday night.” he comes so close he’s breathing in his face “And I’d get myself together before that if I was you, cause I could smell you from around the corner.”

Emerson grits his teeth and squeezes his baton harder. For a moment Bellamy thinks he’ll try to hurt the doctor too, but then after a second in which they simply stare at each other, throwing daggers, Emerson pulls away, shoves his baton in his belt and gives the doctor a dirty smile.

“This isn’t over, Santiago. I don’t care who you are, you’ll pay for this.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” the doctor says sarcastically and watches as Emerson passes by rushing down the hallway.

Miller had managed to stand up during that entire exchange, leaning heavily on the wall. He seemed to be okay, but his cheek was busted and already starting to swell really bad.

He throws Bellamy a worried look and he tries to sit up and prove them that he’s okay. 

“Bellamy!” Miller’s by his side when he raises himself up on one elbow, his other arm tightly wrapped around his ribs.

“Hey, it’s fine, I’ll help you.” the doctor, Gabriel Santiago as Bellamy could read with eyes blurred from the badge, kneels on his other side, hands hovering in the air before he reaches for him.

Bellamy flinches and tries to pull back. He would’ve almost fallen if Miller wasn’t there to catch him, supporting his back with his arms and pulling him up. The movement makes him groan and throw his head back.

“I won’t hurt you.” Gabriel promises.

“He’s not a big fan of your kind, doc. Don’t take it personally.” Miller explains voice still worried when he struggles to breathe in his arms, feeling more pathetic than ever.

“You okay?” 

“Am I okay? He literally beat the shit out of you.” Miller huffs annoyed and looks up at the doctor “The bastard hurt him again a few days ago.”

“I’m fine.” Bellamy utters when he tries to sit up on his own but the pain is so intense he falls back and again his friend catches him.

Gabriel’s observing them carefully, shaking his head lightly at his stubbornness.

“Can I see?” he reaches again and Bellamy has to hold his breath before he nods and lets the doctor pull the white shirt up only to reveal his purple colored side and curse at the looks of it. 

His fingers thread over the bruised place carefully but Bellamy winces so hard at his touch that he stops, afraid that he’ll cause him more pain and looks up at Miller, taking a moment too long to inspect the cut on his face too before he determines.

“You guys are coming to medical with me.”

“No, I-”

“It’s not up for debate. Do you think you can walk?” damn, that was a tough doctor.

Tougher than Jackson, Bellamy thinks. He gives him a light nod and both Miller and him, throw his arms over their backs and pull him up.

He almost screams from the pain. 

“Shit, Bellamy, we should’ve never let it get that bad.” Miller curses when he sees how white his face gets. He struggles to breathe so much, pulling air in and out so fast, it sounded like a freight train.

“I’ve been through worse.” Bellamy manages when they start dragging him down the hallway. Medical was just a few hallways down, in another section of the building and he tries to help them put his own weight in when he walks but he’s sluggish and slow and they basically have to carry him there.

Gabriel flashes his card to the guards in front of the bars.

“Hurry up, please.” he asks and they open the door for them. Bellamy stumbles on his feet so hard he almost falls, but thankfully they are both strong enough to keep him upright.

“Where to?”

“The left, it’s my office. It’s best to check him out there first. And it’s the closest.” Bellamy’s mind starts to swirl from the strain the walk put him through but once he’s down in the cot, breathing gets a little easier and he looks around the small rundown room. There’s a desk opposite of the cot he was put on and two rolls of cabinets full of medicine behind. 

“How long ago was he hurt again?” Gabriel asks as Miller helps him pull his shirt off and now he’s half naked in the office of a goddamn doctor in juvie. He was supposed to come here anyway at some point, get checked out, but for the three weeks inside, it had never happened. 

“Tuesday, no…Wednesday.” Miller explains,shaking a bit too hard himself.

“Here, sit.” Gabriel instructs when he drags a chair for his friend to rest on “I’ll need to check you later too.”

“It’s just a bruise.” Miller waves him off and throws Bellamy a look. “He’s way worse."

The doctor pulls on some blue gloves and grabs a bunch of bottles and bandages that he puts on the tray by the end of the bed. 

When he approaches Bellamy’s side again his eyes fall on the round scar in his shoulder and his eyes widen.

“Were you shot recently?” the place was still really sore, the wound, though healed, has scarred in an ugly awful way, forming a small patch over it, skin still pink and angry. Miller’s surprised at that, it’s the one detail he hasn’t shared with him and when he meets his eyes, Bellamy looks away ashamed. 

He simply gives the doctor a nod before he sighs, braces himself and hovers over his torso.

“This will probably hurt.”

“It’s okay, as I said, I’m used to it.” Bellamy whispers, in between breaths but when the doctor gives him one last nod and presses onto the ribs, checking out the extend of his injury he hisses despite his attempts not to.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of something nice-his mom and Clarke at home, telling him about O…oh god, he must’ve worried them so much today.

If Emerson had never intervened…if only he had finished his conversation.

Dammit, he had fucked it up yet again.

Will he ever stop disappointing them?

When he feels like he’s losing himself too much, he senses someone’s strong grip on his good shoulder and the force of it is so hard, but in a good grounding way, that he turns to find Miller’s firm expression trying to tell him everything will be fine.

“He broke them.” Gabriel concludes when he pulls away and Bellamy takes in a deep breath which turns into a cough. “Have you coughed any blood?”

“Some…but not a lot.”

“Let’s hope he hasn’t caused any internal bleeding.” Gabriel says, anger returning to his voice when he shakes his head and heads to the tray, pulling in an injection and filling it with a medicine from one of the bottles. “The area is really tender.”

“I broke them when I was shot. They were just about healed…” Bellamy explains when he watches him approach with the shot but lingers at the side and eyes him curiously.

“How long ago was that?”

“Barely a month…I think.” Bellamy utters closing his eyes for a second, avoiding the judging looks the doctor must be giving him.

But instead when he looks up again, he finds nothing but compassion in his eyes. He doesn’t know where this person finds it in him to feel anything other than disgust towards him but he knows he has to be grateful for it. 

“I’ll give you some painkillers so that I can patch you up and-”

“No!” Bellamy cuts him off and pulls his arm away before the doctor can stick the needle in him “You can’t…I-” he looks at Miller for a moment his friend still gripping his good shoulder in support and that gives him the strength to speak it out “I have a bad heart.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at first and then…recognition. His hand holding the shot falls down and his mouth hangs a bit.

“Wait.” he puts the injection back on the tray and heads to his desk, meddling through the folders “You’re the kid with the heart disease….” he fishes one out and opens it up, finding a mug shot of Bellamy staring at him, dark circles around his tired eyes and when he looks up, he sees the same kid with that unruly hair and sad expression but face twisted in agony, lungs struggling to pull air in. 

“You’re Bellamy Blake?”

“Yeah.” he utters, clearly growing tired and watched Gabriel skim through the information in the folder before he shuts it and slams it down on his desk angrily “I put in a request to see you two weeks ago! What the hell happened?”

Bellamy shrugs and shakes his head, clearly as clueless as the doctor was about the entire situation and he watches as the kid’s arm instinctively wraps over his bruised ribs which makes him remember that he had to help him out.

“Okay, no painkillers.” he announces when he comes back by his side and pulls the stethoscope over his neck and presses it to his chest. 

He wants to curse.

“You taking meds?”

“Got them last week.” Bellamy promises but right now his biggest problem wasn’t the fact that his heart was really out of rhythm, it was his bruised ribs and his inability to take a proper breath which, judging by the sound of his lungs, has already started to put a great strain on him and if he didn’t do anything to stop it now, it’d turn into a full blown pneumonia.

He grabs some ice from the freezer and presses it to his swollen purple side, then fishes an oxygen mask and places it over his head as much as the kid protests.

“No,I-”

“You need to breathe and this will help relieve the strain on your lungs.” the doctor explains when he pushes it over his head. The kid’s stubbornly fighting him but when he breathes in with the mask on, relief floods over his face and though his chest is still rising up and down really fast, he seems a little bit better. “I’m keeping you here overnight. Maybe even a few days. I need to make sure there’s no internal bleeding and I have to check on you anyway.”

Bellamy starts shaking his head, ready to fight, trying to sit up but Gabriel pushes him down.

“It’s not up for debate, kid.”

He collapses down on the pillows with a sigh and though he knows he won’t be able to do anything about the pain with the medications he has since they’d affect his heart beat, he will still make sure he does his best to help him. 

“Miller-” he whispers when he grabs onto the doctor’s wrist and nods at his friend who’s still worriedly staring down at him “Help him.”

“I’m fine.It’s nothing!” the other kid shakes his head but Gabriel rolls his eyes at both of their behaviors.

“I will. In fact, stay where you are, I’m going to patch you right now.” he promises sensing that this will help Bellamy relax, considering how hard he was fighting for his friend from the start, asking how he was even though he was the one who was majorly hurt. 

While he grabs a bunch of gauze and cleans Miller’s face, they still talk, which of course, makes his work harder, first because Bellamy pulls his mask down which earns him scolds from the both of them and secondly because Miller moved his head too much, preventing him from cleaning the cut.

“I need you…to get me some paper…and a stamp.” Bellamy asks, eyes turned hopefully to his friend. Miller’s head tilts before Gabriel pushes it back so it’s facing him.

“Gonna send the princess another letter?”

Bellamy smiles and Gabriel has to reach and pull his mask back up mid-procedure, so the kid doesn’t cough his lungs out.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Oh, shut up, Bellamy.” Miller scoffs annoyed “He’s so damn stubborn. You’re seriously going to get a headache because of him.” he warns the doctor and Gabriel smiles but when he glances at the kid on the cot he realizes he won’t be awake too much longer which is what he probably sensed too, considering he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I don’t want mom finding out about this.” he says next, not clear if it’s directed to the doctor or his friend.

“We’re obliged to notify the parent.” Gabriel explains patiently “I’m sorry, kid.”

“But I don’t want her to worry. She already…she has..” he struggles to pull air in even with the oxygen mask on so the doctor reaches to gently touch his chest.

“Stop talking. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

He nods and closes his eyes obviously too tired to stay awake anymore. Still, stubbornly, he turns to his friend one last time, eyes shot up in question before Miller gives him a tight squeeze.

“I’ll get you what you need to write your princess a letter.” he promises “And I’ll come by to see you tomorrow, okay?” Bellamy manages a simple nod before his eyes flutter and his head falls to the side. 

“He’ll be fine, right?” Miller asks when he lets the doctor pull his cheek back to face him and picks up a needle and a thread to patch the cut up. The thought that one guard managed to screw two kids up so badly, makes him fume, but he contains it and swears he’ll make Emerson pay, no matter what.

“I’ll do my best.” he promises and gives the boy a hopeful smile, but his eyes always end up on the other kid lying helplessly in the cot, chest rising and falling down still too quickly, body twisting in pain every now and then, unable to rest peacefully because of the pain, sweat covering his forehead.

When he’s sends Miller off, he asks for the nurses to come help him move Bellamy to the big common treating room that was consisting of barely ten beds, only two of which were currently occupied by a kid with a sprained ankle and another one with pneumonia. Out of them all, Bellamy’s the worst case and one of the most serious he’s had in a while. Ever since his file ended up on his desk, he had immediately seek out the guards to bring him in but the request must’ve fallen through the cracks because the boy was never brought up. 

Now he watched him struggle. He’d wake up every half an hour or so, talking in his sleep, eyes wide opened for a second, trying to sit up and leave as if something inside him was telling him to go.

He was afraid of doctors, that much became clear to him ever since that first flinch back in the hallway but even now, when he reached to touch him, he pulled away afraid, his heart beat jumped and his blood pressure rose even higher. 

“Clarke…” he was mumbling hours later into the death of night when the oxygen mask had slipped down his throat from all the tossing and turning and Gabriel was trying to patch up his ribs after putting some ointment on them. He stops briefly and glances at the monitor on the other side which was connected to his heart and blood pressure and he sees it spike. “Clarke…Clarke, I’m so sorry.”

“Bellamy, wake up.” Gabriel shakes him lightly but the kid keeps tossing his head right and left.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he keeps whispering until Gabriel squeezes his shoulder tightly and his eyes snap wide open and he looks around, trying to remember his surrounding. When he does, he relaxes back into the pillows but Gabriel’s eyes are focused on the monitor and he uses the stethoscope to listen to his heart again.

“That Clarke of yours must be quite the girl.” he says with a light smile before he adjusts the mask over his face again “She’s making your heart go wild.” Bellamy smiles at that eyes closed, probably reminiscing about her.

“Yes…” he says in a whisper “She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“You’re quite lucky to have her.” Gabriel comments sitting on the side of the bed and observing the kid in the short period in which he’s still awake and lucid, knowing he’ll probably pass out really soon again. 

“I don’t deserve her.” Bellamy shakes his head sadly “She’s too good to me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, it is…it is.”

“You guys write letters, that’s very romantic.” Bellamy smiles, eyes still barely opened as he struggles to breathe.

“It’s more sad than anything.” the kid says turning his head to him probably trying to ignore the sound of the machines next to him. His heart refused to quiet down at least for now. 

“How come?”

“Because I’m in love with her and she’s…everything. She’s so brave and beautiful and strong and goddamn stubborn-” Gabriel chuckles at that “So full of life and her heart is so big..” he swallows hard “And that’s the problem.”

“Why?”

“Cause she’s always going to want to help me, save me but I’m not worth it and I can’t be saved.” he manages and when he closes his eyes this time, he knows the kid’s going to fade back to sleep again “Because the world is too big and bright and she can conquer it, she will and I’m…I’m a boy with a broken heart that can’t follow hers.”

Gabriel’s smile falters at that and he watches as the boy falls back to sleep. He’s too buried in thoughts to realize that the machines are beeping a little slower and that his heart beat has gotten somewhat to a normal pace but the sadness never truly leaves his face and that is what in turn, breaks the doctor’s heart.

* * *

Later the next week, he’s lying in his bed reading from the Iliad for the hundred time when Lee passes by his cell with his familiar grey metal cart and throws him his big smile. He waves a letter in the air and Bellamy jumps off the bed…as much as he can with his ribs fucked up as they were.

Gabriel left him in medical for three days after the events with Emerson and as much as Bellamy tried to fight him on it, the doctor wouldn’t budge.

He had made up his mind that Bellamy was a stubborn kid who refused to take care of himself (which was maybe true in ways) and he wanted to make sure he’d be okay before he let him go.

But the reason Bellamy wanted to leave so much wasn’t because he was stubborn about his health-he knew his ribs were bad and his heart didn’t sound good. He just didn’t want to skip too much time from work, knowing that he’d have to make up for the hours he missed as was the juvie’s policy and he hated the thought of working till midnight all by himself with no one but Emerson in the room, torturing the hell out of him.

Except, when he had gotten back to his friends, it wasn’t Emerson guarding them and through the cracks and whispers, he found out that he has been suspended for two weeks.

The thought alone, made him breathe a little easier but also dread what would happen once he comes back and blames him and Miller for his suspension. They were certain there will be pay back and though both of them were trying to put on a brave face, Bellamy knew Miller was as scared as he was.

So they started trying to fight back…at least as much as they could. They wanted to be transferred to another working section. Bellamy could use his disease as a reason and Miller’s dad who was in the police force, could help push the papers so that he’s moved as well but that meant they left Jasper, Monty and rest of their kids to their own devices and the thought, terrified them even more because they could take Emerson’s beating and come the other way alive while those kids were…too small and fragile and they worried that if the guard was in one of his moods, he could kill them.

So for now they were withholding the paper work and trying to think what they should do.

“Here you go, Blake!” Lee says, passing him the letter through the bars “Your girl is pretty fast with the responses. Also, there’s a package for you in commissary but you can pick it up tomorrow morning.”

“A package?” he asks raising his eyebrows but Lee only shrugs with a knowing smile.

“If there’s something sweet, I won’t mind trading you, alright?” he says before he starts pushing the cart forward and Bellamy looks at him confused, hands still trembling a bit before he remembers the letter, looks down at the words written on the envelope and goes back to his bunk, opening it impatiently.

_Dear Bellamy,_

_You don’t know how relieved your mom and I were when we got your letter so fast, especially considering our last conversation. We were so worried when we heard the commotion over there that the moment you hung up(if it was you at all), we started trying to contact the detention center, get any information there was on what has happened, except no one would give us any._

_Then we called Jaha but he was out of town working on another case so he couldn’t go visit you._

_I won’t lie to you, Bellamy, we were both really mad in that moment. If you had put us on your visitation list, we could’ve come to see you right away, no questions asked, no one trying to stop us._

_You don’t know the kind of fear we both felt when we heard that guard yelling and the line going dead. Your mom was so worried, she started shaking, her blood pressure rose and I had to force her to bed and make her take an extra dosage of the medicine._

_I promised myself I wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I also said I’ll be honest. So this is me being honest. I think you deserve the right to know what’s happening out here as much as you’re refusing to tell us what’s going inside._

_And let me tell you, if you think you are protecting us, you are not, Bellamy. You’re only making us worry a lot more and living not knowing what’s happening to someone you care about so much is like literal hell._

_Then just as I’ve put Aurora to bed, we got a phone call. It was already late afternoon, the winter sun was setting down, it’s weak rays still passing through the window of your mom’s bedroom, stroking the room with it’s meager light, when I picked up and a doctor called Gabriel Santiago (unless I got the name wrong, I was so nervous), told us that you’re in the infirmary and explained the situation as best as he could._

_Your mom and I always feared that. We knew that the guards inside would be stern and cold, at least from what we’ve heard from Jaha, but we hoped no one was going to take it out on innocent kids._

_I guess we were wrong._

_The doctor explained he reported Emerson and he won’t touch you or Miller again but I know me and your mom won’t rest until you come back home to us._

_Bellamy, please…please consider seeing us. If we do, we’d feel a lot better and I really think this is something your mom needs right now especially with everything else that’s going on._

_I’m angry that you never said anything about Emerson when we talked on the phone. I’m mad beyond me that we could hear you were hurt but you still stubbornly tried to blind us._

_We need you to tell us the truth, Bellamy._

_I know it may sound weird but in the past few months your mom and your sister, but most of all you, have become my family. I feel like I can tell you anything and you’d understand me like no one else had before. I had forgotten what it was like to have a friend, I haven’t had one since Wells and that feels so far ago and so foreign as if I lost a limb and never learned how to live without it._

_But with you…with you it’s different._

_Or at least I’d like to think so. Except there you are now and you still do the same things you did before-you keep it all in and refuse to tell us what’s really happening out of some stubborn heroic believe that you can save us if you do so. If you bear it all alone._

_Please…don’t bear it alone, Bellamy._

_You don’t know how that can hurt you, you don’t know how that can swallow you whole and make it hard to breathe._

_Anyway, I’m hoping that by now you’re out of medical and taking better care of yourself. The only relief your mom and I had came from doctor Santiago who promised he’ll keep checking you once a week and make sure you’re doing alright._

_He said your heart still doesn’t sound good and your mom, though she tried to put up a brave front, cried in her bed later that night. She’s so worried, Bellamy. As am I._

_There’s also something else I have to tell you and I hope you won’t freak out when you read it but I think that again…I have to be honest with you._

_Octavia got in a fight at school this week and it was pretty bad. There’s this other girl in her class, Gaia or something like that, who wouldn’t stop making fun of her. Somehow the kids at school must’ve found out about you being in juvie, maybe an older sibling or someone who knows you around told a younger kid and suddenly there were all those rumors._

_Octavia came home from school one day, running inside, eyes angry, cheeks stained with tears yelling at your mom and me about lying to her. That you weren’t away working, that you were in jail because you were a bad person who took people’s things away. She asked if it’s true and we tried to explain it to her but essentially…the answer to that is yes so she ran to her room, closed the door with a thud and hid under the blankets all evening._

_In the morning, she said she doesn’t want to go to school but Aurora forced her. Later that day when I was just about done with my classes, your mom called me and asked if I could come by the school and pick them up to drive them home as she was really exhausted._

_When I went there I found your sister’s face full of scratches and even a few bruises but it was her own hands that were bawled in angry fists. Turned out that Gaia girl kept mocking her about you, saying ugly awful things and pulling her hair, tugging her clothes, calling her trash until Octavia snapped and attacked her. She pushed her so hard, Gaia fell down, hit her head on a desk and then fell to the floor unconscious. She has a concussion but otherwise she’ll be fine. However the principle wanted to expel Octavia but with your mom and I’s persuasions, he relented to simply suspending her for a month._

_However he implied that your mom should think about moving her to another school or maybe even home schooling her as it was clear she had anger issues (that wasn’t the first time she hit another kid, but I assume you know about that) so your mom is trying to figure out what to do now._

_Octavia is so angry all the time. I think I’m the only one who sometimes gets to her. I try to offer her kindness even when she’s snapping at me or saying bad stuff about your mom and you and sometimes it works. I know there’s good in her, she’s not a bad or evil child as they’re making her out to be but she’s just been through a lot and I think her anger stems mostly from the fact that she’s been lied to her all her life._

_She knows your mom’s sick but you never really told her how bad she was, you always tried to hide it to protect her. She realizes you’re poor but you and your mom gave most of your food away to keep her healthy and help her grow. She thought you were away working for them but it turned out you’re in juvie. I think that was the last straw for her._

_I am not blaming you, let me make this clear. I am just sharing my thoughts with you, I hope that doesn’t make you angry. I want you to know I am in no way judging you or your mother, in fact, I admire you and your strength._

_Anyway, I think that’s mostly it. Your mom and I send you a package though you told us not to. There’s a bunch of stuff in there we thought you could use. She also insisted that we put in fifty dollars that you can spent in commissary or for whatever else you need to that you can buy with money there. It’s not a lot but it’s something and she knew you could use them as much as you’re refusing to admit so._

_With the holidays approaching us, I think a lot about you and how you’ll spend them on your own inside. I can’t imagine what it feels like to have Christmas behind bars. Welcome the New Year in such a dark hopeless place. Sometimes I close my eyes and I imagine you here with me, with us. Sitting on your living room couch, drawing with Octavia, wearing one of those silly Christmas sweaters with the rain deer and the snow flakes. Did you ever have one of those? I wonder…I’ve never asked your mom. Then I know you’d use all your money to buy your mom and your sister the best presents you can and I imagine your sister’s bright smile and your mother’s warm one._

_If I have one wish this Christmas, though, it’d be to be able to wrap my arms around you, Bellamy. I miss your warm embrace and how perfectly I fit against you. I miss us reading to each other, lying on your bed, I miss us playing chess. Sometimes something nice happens at school or at your house and I turn around eager to see your expression but I find nothing, no one….and it hurts, Bellamy. **It hurts so much.**_

_Anyway, enough with the pity party._

_One last thing and I’ll stop cause this is way too long by now. You mentioned that you used to write, that it was your dream to become a writer, that you thought about school and in the way you talked about these things it made me feel like you have completely given up on them._

**_Don’t._ **

**_Please, don’t._ **

_I still think that after you come out you should go back to school, maybe get your GED. And I hope that you can pick writing up again. Actually, I know you already have, considering that letter you sent me. That was writing, Bellamy. As much as you probably don’t think so. Please, keep doing it, don’t give up on yourself and your dreams. Do it because you want to, not because you have something to prove to the world. If there are words inside you, let them out. And if you do, I’d love to see them._

_Don’t give up on yourself._

_I haven’t. Your mom hasn’t._

_Please._

_All my love,_

_Clarke._

_P.S Octavia just came home and curled up on my side. We’re watching Spirit, her favorite. She asked me if I knew how you are. I said you’re okay._

_I don’t know if I lied to her._

_(Tell me that I didn’t.)_

Clarke hears the door behind her open but she’s too focused on the text before her, her left hand gripping a pen carefully puts down the notes she needs in her pink covered notebook.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, she was wearing her unicorn PJs, the ones Bellamy made fun of, wore an old white shirt with the GIRLS ROCK sign on the front, biting on a yellow high lighter eyes skimming through, brain on fire, trying to remember everything before her big AP Bio exam tomorrow-she was a studying disaster in all her glory which makes her dad chuckle a bit before he approaches her and wraps his arms around her, holding on their old white home phone that they rarely used anymore.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he says kissing her cheek but she’s still too focused on the text “There’s someone who needs to talk to you.”

“I’m studying, dad, tell mom she can wait.”

“It’s not your mom.” the serious tone of his voice makes her look up “It’s Bellamy.”

She reaches for the phone but he pulls his hand away swiftly, making her eyebrows furrow. Her dad, though he was against her entire relationship with the Blakes at first, had soften at the idea of her having someone else around especially when he was gone away on business. After meeting with Aurora and Octavia, he became even fonder of them and he’d often pass by on Sunday with Clarke, to check up on them, have lunch and discuss his favorite soap opera with Aurora on the front porch while they sipped on their afternoon coffee. It had become a regular occurrence ever since he realized that he’s not spending enough time with his daughter who was hurt after her mother’s disappearance and under a lot of pressure from school.

“Honey, are you sure?” he asks, worried for her as usually. He knew that her and Bellamy were never just friends, both him and Aurora had agreed on that. Clarke’s entire face beamed every time she was around that boy and he tried not to let his overprotective fatherly streak show but he couldn’t help and feel afraid. He didn’t want his little girl hurt. And no matter how much Aurora reassured him that Bellamy’s heart is too big and he’d never do anything to hurt her, he couldn’t forget the fact that the kid literally tried to steal their car. 

“I’ll be fine, dad”

“I don’t want you feeling bad after you guys talk.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Jake sighs and when she keeps her arm outstretched and urges him to give her the phone, he gives up and hands it over but doesn’t leave the room before cupping her cheeks and kissing her forehead.

“Please, don’t overtire yourself and if you want to talk later, I’ll be downstairs.”

“Catching on your soap opera, yes I know, dad.” she kisses his cheek too and waits for him to leave, making sure he’s closed the door behind him before she finally presses on the button.

“Bellamy?”

“Clarke-” he says right away. She smiles and closes her eyes for a brief moment, imagining what he must look like right now. Did he have that boyish half-smirk on his face too? Was his hair shorter or longer? Did the curls messily fall over his forehead? Has the number of his freckles increased?

(God, she wishes she could map them out with her finger, trace them all, count them, kiss them and all the pain of the dark circles under his eyes, away.)

“Hey, how are you?” she asks and she’s happy to realize there’s not that much noise around him this time “It’s not Sunday.”

“We can call on the week too as long as we finish all the work we’re assigned to and I really wanted to talk to you…especially after that letter.” his voice falters a bit at that and she swallows hard. “How are they? How’s Octavia?”

“Better…I think. Your mom started taking her to the school councilor every day. I think it’s going to help.”

“Is she still angry?”

“Sometimes yes. She really misses you, we all do.” he goes quiet at that and she knows he must be feeling horrible but he’s trying to get himself together on her account “I’m sorry that I wrote all of that…I just thought you deserved to know the truth.”

“No! No, you….you were right to do that. You’re right about it all.” he sighs tiredly and she imagines him running his fingers through his hair “We should be honest to each other. Keeping secrets only makes things work. Unfortunately this time my sister paid the price for it.”

“Bellamy-”

“It’s okay.” he promises and she shakes her head stubbornly, though he can’t see her.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, but I didn’t call so we could talk about me. I…I wanted to hear your voice.” her eyes fill with tears at that “All we do is talk and worry about me and my life, I want to hear about you.”

“But, Bellamy-”

“Please, princess. It will help.” he promises and she leans on the back of her chair, holding her feet and rubbing her toes. “What are you doing right now?”

She huffs annoyed at that and it makes him chuckle.

“Studying for an AP Bio exam I have in a few days.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it gonna be about?”

“Mostly anatomy stuff. The heart, the blood, bones and all that shit.”

“Wow, all that shit, you’ll make an amazing doctor, Griffin.” he jokes and she wishes he was here so she could playfully slap his chest. “What else is there with you?”

“Well I joined the cheer leading squad.”

“No way!”

“I didn’t want to! But I needed one more extracurricular to include on my college applications and I have nothing with any trace of athletics in them so-” he laughs at that out loud, that belly beautiful laugh that felt like the light from the sun rays illuminating the sky on a bright spring morning “Hey, I’ll stop talking if you keep it that way, mister”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry….” he struggles to breathe and a cough escapes his lips but despite her wanting to ask about that, she pushes it at the back of her mind for the moment. “It’s just I’m trying to imagine you jumping around in an uniform and probably being so out of sync that you hit the other girls in the face and give them bruises.”

“I only hit Josephine once and let me tell you, it was on purpose!” he laughs at that again.

“Is she still the captain?”

“Oh yes.”

“You’re totally pouting right now even thinking about that, aren’t you?”

“You bet your ass I am.” she even crosses her arm over her chest and imagines Josephine’s face mocking her when she can’t climb on top of the pyramid they make “She’s pure evil, Bellamy.”

“Oh, I know. But what did she do?” worry traces his voice and she swallows hard, not really wanting to make him feel bad.

“She keeps giving me all the hardest things to do and she makes all these comments about my weight.”

“No, she’s not!” that gets him angry and she can imagine the fire in his eyes.

“Oh, yes she is. But I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of how I look and Josephine Lightbourne won’t be the one to bring me down.”

“You’re also forgetting the fact that you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Oh stop it, Bellamy.”

“I mean it.” his voice shakes a bit “I know I’ve not said it before, but I’ve always thought it.” she blushes at that and right now for once, she’s grateful he can’t see her. 

“Always, huh?” she teases for a lack of a better response.

“Ever since that night in the garage. I remember your hair, how it shone like the golden sun before I passed out. I thought I’d seen a goddess.”

“Man you’re so sappy.” he chuckles at that.

“But then…when I woke up in your kitchen and I saw your face, your eyes…I was blown away. I couldn’t talk.”

“So I was the reason and not the fact that you didn’t want us to know who you are so we can tell the police.”

“Yep.” he confirms though she was mostly teasing, his voice on the other hand is quite serious “You literally knocked the breath out of me, Clarke Griffin.”

“Bellamy….you can’t say stuff like that.”

“I know…I’m sorry.” he sounds sad now but he shakes it off fast “So am I right to imagine you sitting on your desk at home, wearing those unicorn PJs, biting on a pen and studying your ass off?”

“First of all, it’s a text marker I’m biting on and second of all how dare you be so accurate.” he laughs again and she hears another cough interrupt them. “Tell me what it looks like around you?”

“Oh, it’s just boring green walls, a long narrow hallway, kids occasionally passing by with a guard back to their cells. Most of them are in the common room watching TV now.”

“And you?”

“I prefer reading, you know that.”

“No, I mean what are you wearing, how does your hair look, are you up or sitting?”

“Oh…” he seems surprised by that “Well I’m in my blue jumpsuit. They gave us those when I came in here.” he takes a second before he goes on “I’m sitting on the floor, it’s more comfortable that way and my hair is…” he must reach out to touch it “well they cut it really short when I was brought in.”

“So no curls?”

“Hate to say it but no, no curls. They’ll be back by Christmas, though…or New Years. At least I’d like to think so.”

“Jaha talked with us about your release date. Should be just a bit before you turn eighteen.”

“There’s still time.” he mumbles quietly, painfully.

“Have you thought more about letting us see you?” she dares ask the thing that’s been bothering her all those weeks, the question she desperately needs an answer to.

He sighs and for a moment too long he doesn’t say anything back.

“Yeah about that-”

“Bellamy, please hear me out. I know why you don’t want to and I know it will probably be very painful for you and us but I really think it could help us heal, feel better, make it easier for you to get through it all.”

“Clarke, I-”

“And I know it will also make you sad but-”

“Clarke, please, just let me explain.” he interrupts her but not in a harsh way…he sounds sad and that’s how she knows something’s really wrong. “I tried to ask you to be added to my visitor’s list. I even filed in all the paper work, the official request. I knew that I had to see you and talk to you, especially after what happened with O.”

“Bellamy, what is it?” she asks realizing by the tone of his voice that something was clearly wrong.

“It’s because of that guard…Emerson.” he says cursing quietly under his nose, thinking she won’t hear him “He came back and he’s mad as fuck that it was me and Miller who got him the suspension. He wants pay back so he is denying all of our requests.”

“No-”

“He has friends in the other departments so…I am not getting any visitations for a month because of the commotion I caused that day, not even with Jaha. Emerson made it all about him, lied that Miller and I tried to attack. I think the doctor tried to fight it off but even he has only that much power.”

“Damn it, Bellamy.”

“I know…I’m sorry, princess.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Nothing ever is.” he sighs tiredly “But maybe it’s for the better. I’ll be out in about a month anyway and we’ll get to see each other properly. I never wanted you guys to come here anyway.”

“But you’ve changed your mind if you filed in that request.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” when she doesn’t answer, still confused by the entire situation, he keeps on after a quiet sigh “I miss you, princess.”

She grows quiet for a long while, both of them devouring the silence, trying to make sense of their thoughts before he speaks up again.

“I know I don’t deserve it that I shouldn’t even say it but…I do.”

“Of course you deserve it.”

“I miss the simple things. Your arms around me, us sleeping together…” he coughs a bit as if embarrassed “Uh,not in that way…I mean…you know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes I do.” she says sadly, twisting a lose strand from her PJs between her fingers “I miss that too.”

“I miss being normal….if I ever even was…things have always been fucked up in one way or another.”

“I get that.” she promises “What normal thing do you miss now?”

“You’ll make fun of me.”

“I won’t. Come on.”

“You remember that diner around the corner of our street where we went to after my shoulder started to heal? It was just you and me. Mom was home, resting, O was with aunt.”

“Oh the one with the big ass burger and the onion rings that we dipped in sweet sauce?”

“Yeah” he responds enthusiastically “You got milkshake on the tip of your nose and I laughed but you didn’t care. You were so unapologetically you-so brave, so beautiful, ketchup on your fingers, popping onion ring after onion ring while I munched on my fries and you made fun of me eating like a grandpa with my shaky hand. God I loved that.”

“So did I.”

“I want to do it again.”

“We will.” she states with certainty and feels the tears gather in the corner of her eyes but she stubbornly brushes them away “First thing when you’re out, we go there.”

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

There’s a voice interrupting them, calling Bellamy’s name but this time it doesn’t sound as angry and he’s covering the receiver with his hand this time so she can’t hear the exchange.

“I gotta go, princess. Time to get back to our cells.”

“Okay. When do you think we can talk again?”

“I’m not sure…I’ll try to do my best. I will write you, though.” he swallows hard and speaks faster “Please, tell my mom I tried to see you guys. Tell O I love her.”

“I will,I promise.”

“Goodnight, princess. Don’t tire yourself too much. And good luck on your test.”

“Good night, Bell.” when she hangs up, she keeps staring at the phone for a while, repeating their conversation over and over in her head. When she tries to get back to studying, she simply fails, unable to focus so instead she goes downstairs to her dad, lets him wrap an arm around her and pull her to his side while they focus on his soap opera and make fun of the shitty lines.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asks when her eyes start drooping.

“I’m fine.” she promises but she’s not sure she believes it herself.


	10. A box of nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you very much for everyone who left a comment after the last chapter. I really was thinking of deleting the story because I was certain no one reads it judging by the statistics and the comments so I was definitely surprised. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also Happy Easter to the Orthodox world!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

Weeks later, she’s snuggled on the old couch in Bellamy’s house, watching as Aurora walked around the kitchen and prepared dinner while her dad helped out set the table and O sat on a chair and played on an old Game boy Jake found for her when they were cleaning their attic, making room for the boxes full of her mom’s stuff that they had finally found the courage to move away.

Aurora had officially invited them for a Christmas dinner at the beginning of the month and they had both gladly accepted, having secretly dread the thought of being on their own at their house, probably eating Chinese out of boxes while binging on some movies. They loved doing that but it was more of a regular father/daughter weekend thing instead of one of those sweet yet a bit weird holiday traditions some families had.

Clarke smiled as she unwrapped the letter she got from Bellamy earlier. She’s been waiting all day for the proper moment to open it up and dive into his words and it finally felt as if this is it. 

In the past few weeks they had talked on the phone at least twice a week, sometimes more. He was always fast to finish his work and spend half an hour or more with her on the phone. She had expressed her concern that he shouldn’t be pushing himself to work so hard but of course, in his typical Bellamy manner, he had ignored it. 

In those moments, though, they avoided talking about their real problems. Of course, he still asked about his mom and sister, and she still worried about his heart and that guard who had his eyes on him, but they allowed themselves to feel … ** _free_** during those conversations, exist, even for a short while, in a bubble.

That in turn allowed their friendship too bloom and she learned so much more about him as he did about her.

She talked about school and her classes, all her college applications, playing pranks on Josephine and he told her about his games with Miller, stories from his childhood and even…as of lately, admitted he started writing again.

She pushed him to read what he’d done-it was mostly short stories or essays, he said he’s bad at poetry and doesn’t want to touch it with a ten foot pole which made her laugh.

But he was also self-conscious and afraid to read it all so he’d chose some excerpts that he read quietly in the dim light of the hallway, curled up on the floor, phone in hand while she lay spread on her bed, eyes closed devouring every word.

**_And damn, was he good._ **

Not that he believed her no matter how many times she said it.

It didn’t matter, though, it was important he came back to something he liked.

He also told her he thought about it and that she’s right-once he’s out, he’s going to go back to school, get his GED, find a job and make his mom proud.

But he also…sounded really tired to her and quite honestly, sad. His letters had gotten a bit shorter and during their conversations in the past week, he always made the conversation about her, instead of him which worried her.

_Dear Clarke,_

his letter started the usual way and she smiled at his handwriting, the big block letters, always lifting up her mood.

_Thank you for the Christmas package you and mom send me. I don’t know how you knew I needed new socks or even t-shirts when I haven’t mentioned it at all, but they’re coming in a moment I am desperate for them. The sweater will keep me warm too, especially at night when they still sometimes stop the electricity._

_I’m glad to know Octavia’s doing better and I support mom’s decision for her to finish this school year at home. Maybe after a while, we can sign her up to a different one, maybe mom’s right and we should let aunt take her there, to their neighborhood and let her return home for the summer vacation and the holidays._

_I don’t know. I’m only sure I want what’s best for her and I don’t think that this is what she deserves right now but of course, it is what she gets, like it usually happens in our family._

_Mom told me that she invited you over for dinner when we talked on the phone, so I hope you’ll have a great time._

_I won’t lie…it hurts that I’m not there and you may have noticed it when we talked this week no matter how hard I tried to hide it but I promise you, I’ll be fine._

_Miller, Monty, Jasper, Harper and I will have a special Christmas dinner of our own, gathering all the stuff our folks sent us and stuffing our faces with it. Jasper heard the guards will order us pizza but I don’t know if it will be enough for all of us so I’m not holding my breath for it._

_We also have a Secret Santa going and I, of course, got Miller but since I had nothing to give him, I wrote him a short story, in the dramatic Shakespearean way he so much likes and packed a pair of the socks you gave me cause I know how much he needs some too._

_I hope he won’t hate it too much._

_I know it’s hard for both me and you guys to be away at such a time but I’m trying to hold on to the fact that we’re just weeks away from seeing each other._

_Maybe by the time I’m out, you would’ve gotten a response from some of the colleges you applied to so we can celebrate that as well as me leaving the land of the criminals._

_I miss you and I wish I could hug you so badly, princess,_

_I can’t wait to get out and do just that. Hold you close, squeeze you so hard, I’ll make your bones crack, see the smile on your face, your rosy cheeks, your golden hair shining like the sun._

Clarke’s heart leaps at that and she feels herself blush.

He talked like she’s the only person in the world that mattered and that couldn’t be the case, not with the love he holds for his mom and sister.

Has she become so important to him? She knows he has become her family, her best friend. She knows some times she wishes so badly she could not just hold him but…kiss him too.

Could he feel the same way? Or was this just how Bellamy Blake loved?

His heart all in, his love big and bright, sending warmth everywhere in his path?

And how was she to tell the difference?

Her eyes fall back on the letter.

_I wanted to thank you for never giving up on me, for continuing to talk to me, for always being honest with me even when I wasn’t. I don’t deserve you in my life, Clarke Griffin, but I still got you and I know despite it all, despite everything that has happened so far-the shooting, Murphy leaving, mom being sick, juvie-I know, I believe… **that I am so lucky.**_

_You make my world better, Clarke_

_You make it all worth it._

_Marry Christmas, princess!_

_All my love,_

_Bellamy_

* * *

Just a few weeks later, the big metal door before him opens and he comes out into the backyard where they were usually taken out for walks with a guard accompanying him.

He stops for a second too long, breathing in the air, trying to remember that yes, this is real, he’s not just going outside to play basketball with Miller just to be locked in again later that night.

**_No…he was free._ **

He looks down at himself just to reassure himself that he’s wearing the right clothes but he’s still surprised when he doesn’t find the blue jumpsuit and the white t-shirt underneath but instead the clothes he wore to court all those months ago-the nice button up his mom bought him, the black jacket that she had so carefully washed and dried.

The only thing that was still old and worse than his juvie-issued possessions were his sneakers. 

As he stepped forward, nudged by the guard behind him, he could feel his socks wet after falling in a small puddle before him but he couldn’t care less.

Even that was a good feeling.

**_The feeling of him being alive and free._ **

He swallows hard when they keep going forward, there’s a box of his possessions under his left, bad arm and because it started shaking, he had to move it to the right. The guard was impatient, couldn’t wait to get rid of him so he ushers him to the big cement walls surrounding the prison and nods at the guards on the wall to open up. 

The guard doesn’t say anything, simply again, pushes him outside when he forgets to walk and then quickly closes the door behind him.

It takes him a minute to get a sense of his surroundings.

The exit led him to a big parking lot and though he imagined it’d be empty and the first thing he’d see would be his mom and Clarke, he ends up being welcomed by people walking around, probably getting ready to welcome their own kids back in the real world as well as guards who were leaving or coming back to work.

For a moment his heart clenches in fear.

_What if they never came? What if they hated him and wouldn’t want to see him? What if he hurt them too bad for them to ever want to be anywhere near him? What if-_

“Bellamy!” his head whips in the direction of the voice and when he turns to the left he finds his mom and Clarke by the car. His heart flutters and he forgets all about the box he was supposed to hold, simply dropping it on the ground and rushing to her.

Nothing compares to being held by your mom’s embrace, nothing in the whole wild world.

He grips her so tight, he can feel her own broken heart beat, her tired bones crack a bit, but he’s so happy, he lifts her off her feet for a moment.

“Bellamy, my boy!” she says, voice trembling and he feels her run her arms up and down his back “My boy.”

“Mom” his voice cracks too and he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his nose in her shoulder, breathing her in-she smelled as always of lavender, lemon and …clothes. That sense of a freshly ironed shirt, it was all over her. He could imagine her sitting in their living room couch, sewing clothes, stitching broken things together and at the thought of him waking up and finding her there, his heart flutters.

He was going home.

When finally, they pull away, she cups his face and stares in his eyes, taking him all in. The left side of his face was bruised and only until a few days ago, his eye was swollen shut. He hated that he’d come out looking like this and worry them but it wasn’t something he could try and hide as much as he wanted to. His hair was still pretty short, but there were curls of medium size like he said to Clarke and his mom reached to brush a few of them away from his forehead before she stepped on her toes and kissed it.

There were tears in her eyes and worry in her voice when she takes another step back and examines him.

But she doesn’t get to scold him because he turns his head to the other person waiting by, leaning on the car, giving them their moment first and his whole face beams at the sight of her.

“Clarke-” he lets it out as a prayer, as a wish, as the most hopeful message he could send out to the universe and she’s jumping in his embrace before he could say something else. 

He holds her close, tighter than his mom even and lets her bury her hand in the back of his head, smiling in his shoulder, taking him all in.

“Hey, Bellamy.”

“Hey,princess.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“So am I.” he promises and closes his eyes for a second too long, taking in the warmth of her body, before they pull away and a strand of her hair refuses to leave his face, hanging in for a moment too long.

She laughs, the most beautiful sound in the world for him but her hands never leave his, still holding onto him tight, as if she let him go he could disappear. 

“You’ve lost weight.” she finally says when just like his mom she’s taken the time to check him head to toe, then her hand shoots to his bruised cheek and rubs her thumb under his still swollen eye. “How did you get that one?”

“It’s a long story.” he brushes it off and focuses back on his mom.

It’s his turn to make sure they’re okay except his mom is really pale and wobbly on her feet which makes him worry. When Clarke called him last week, she told him she had another bad episode, that she came by after school to bring O in and found her lying in bed, breathing heavily. 

“Just like that time before when you asked for my help.” Clarke explains which made him squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lips. She wasn’t fine. Again. And he had tried to convince her not to come, that Clarke could simply pick him up and take him home but Aurora had been relentless.

“Mom, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” she promises but he notices how she sways on her feet and he reaches out to steady her. “I just couldn’t sleep well cause I was so excited to see you again.”

“Where’s O?”

“With your aunt. She’ll be home for dinner.” he nods at that and smiles brightly, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully.

“Dinner…” he chuckles and his eyes fill with tears.

He doesn’t have it in him to express the way he feels but they know…they sense it-all the days he went by without them in his life, the days without proper dinner,nights sleeping in an uncomfortable hard bunk, days spent working. 

He choked on the words again and when they saw how hard this was for him, both of them hugged him again and kept him close.

“It’s okay. It will be fine.” his mom promises “You’ll be alright.”

“I know…I know, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.” he promises brushing the tears away from his face “I guess I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you too.” Clarke reassures squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry for…that I didn’t let you come and then for getting myself in trouble. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh” his mom pulls his head to his chest and because he’s taller, he has to lean in an uncomfortable position but he lets her hold him for a moment too long while Clarke rubs his back. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Clarke picks up the box with his meager belongings containing nothing but his empty wallet and his heart meds as well as an old folder filled with yellow papers which she thought were probably some documents, and throws it in the backseat next to his mom who insists he rides shot gun.

He seems to be trembling with both excitement and anxiety on the way back and he was staring out the window like a kid who took their first walk out into the world and tried to take it all in.

“Is that a new corner shop?” he’d ask his mom or “Where’s that laundry mat, mom?” and he’d realize how much everything has changed in just a short time.

He’d ask Clarke about school and his mom about work and how she truly felt, what did Jackson say, would she be okay? And how was O doing? Was she still seeing the councilor? Was she better with her reading? He’d help out with that, he promises his mom and she reaches to squeeze his shoulder.

He would avoid questions about himself though and the more Clarke observed him, the more she realized there was something about him that has changed in a way she couldn’t exactly pinpoint right now.

There was a wall, one of those big ones that he first kept on when she met him but this was a singular one that guarded something, he didn’t want them to know about.

He still smiled and talked and paid attention but his eyes wandered off and he got buried in his thoughts.

She could conclude that just on the short drive home.

Once they’re there, he takes a moment to look at their house, just take it all in, like he had done when the guard let him outside the walls and he was letting himself feel the freedom that he had to be a person again.

His eyes fell on the roof and he made mental notes of all the things he noticed were broken or needed to be fixed before his mom came out the car and wobbled on her feet too hard. He grabbed her arm to steady her and led her inside, leaving Clarke to pick up groceries they had done before they came to get him.

“You should take a nap, Aurora.” Clarke suggests when she catches up with them, carrying the two big brown bags while Bellamy helped her to the couch. She was paler again and the way she struggled to breathe reminded Clarke of Bellamy’s broken ribs.

“I can’t, I have to prepare dinner.”

“You leave that to us.” Bellamy says and when she tries to open her mouth and fight them, he shakes his head “Mom, we got it, I promise.”

“But I wanted to make Mac and cheese for you.” she whispers when she lets him put her down and reaches to cup his cheek “Just the way you like it.”

“I think Clarke and I can handle that. Plus I’m not used to being idle these days, so having something to do will be good.”

She smiles and her hand falls to his, taking them both in and rubbing her thumb over his skin.

“You have blisters, your hands had hardened.”

“That’s what hard and honest work does, right?” he says with a smile “Isn’t it what you’ve always said to me?”

She nods and lets him pull the blanket that she had sew herself all those years ago when he was just a little boy, up to cover her and keep her warm. The house was quite cold again and he was once more faced with the fact that not that many things had changed while he was gone.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” she says eyes already drooping and he smiles at her “My brave boy.”

“I’m not brave, mom.” he shakes his head at her words.

“Yes, you are. You survived this place and came home to me. You’re so strong.” Clarke watches the exchange leaning on the kitchen doorway, heart bursting at the sight of a mother and a son expressing their love to one another in the most gentle and soft way.

“You taught me how to be that way.” he insists squeezing her own rough hands that had gotten worse once she started working again. “You are my hero, mom.”

She smiles at him and reaches to move another lost curl from his forehead but Clarke can see the tears in the woman’s eyes and the way she lets herself surrender for once, knowing she doesn’t have to be strong in that moment, not about this.

One thing Clarke loved about the Blakes is how they could be strong and withstand any storm, get themselves together through the worst of it but they could also let themselves be vulnerable, never shied away from showing what their hearts felt. 

“I won’t be going anywhere anymore, I promise.”

“Good.” she says after swallowing hard and he leans to kiss her forehead “Cause I don’t think either me or your girl can take it again.” Bellamy blushes at that and Clarke notices it which is why she comes by and squeezes his shoulder tightly.

“Mom!” he protests looking away shyly but Clarke decides to let him get away with this.

“You better mean that, Blake.” she says “Because your mom’s right.”

He gives her his signature smirk but nods before he makes sure his mom is tucked in all fine and follows Clarke’s lead to the kitchen.

They work on it together, taking out groceries from the bags and sorting everything out.

For a moment, he feels like he’s never left-everything is exactly the same-the place his mom kept the clean plates, the way Clarke holds the knife when she chops cucumbers for salad like she is about to cut her fingers off, the smell of their stove when they turn it off, always making it seem like something was burning for a short moment before they started using it.

They’re almost done with the mac and cheese when O comes bursting in through the door. His mom wakes at the sound of the door and her screams, because the kid simply stops for a second when she notices him there, before she throws off her jacket and rushes in his direction.

Aurora sits up in bed, blanket still half draped on her as she watches the siblings with the fondest expression on her face.

“Bell!” Octavia screams, throwing herself in his arms. He picks her up with ease and holds her close, spinning them around the kitchen while Octavia laughs. “You’re home.”

“Hey, little menace” he pulls away and kisses her cheeks which makes her squirm. Clarke laughs at the face O makes but when he pulls her down to her feet, she still wraps her arms around his middle and hugs him once more. “Missed me?”

“So much!” she says “Did you bring me a present?”

“Octavia-” Aurora scolds gently as she makes her way to the kitchen, still really unstable on her feet which makes Bellamy’s heart clench with worry.”Let your brother be, he hasn’t even showered yet.”

But Bellamy waves his hand at his mom, trying to brush away her worries and kneels before his sister, pulling out a bunch of pages from his back pocket, folded neatly in a tight square.

“I got you something.” he says and Clarke hasn’t seen him that shy in a while “You see, where I was….I couldn’t really buy you anything. I had to…mostly work all day long and then go to bed.” O tilts her head at him, examining his features with eyebrows furrowed “The only thing I could do is write you something.” her face beams at that.

“What is it?”

“A story” he says a little more bravely now that he got her approval “About a brave princess who went on an adventure to fight an evil dragon. Except it turned the dragon was just a really hurt creature that was trying to help the people in town until they cast him away and hurt him badly, so he was forced to hide their food away and teach them a lesson.”

Octavia claps her hands in excitement.

“Let’s read it!”

“Octavia,no, first we eat.” their mom chimes in, finally having made her way to them, but still leaning on the furniture around for support. “Then your brother will read you the story before sleep.”

“But mom!” O protests.

“Mom,it’s okay, I can-” Bellamy tries to intervene but nothing could shake Aurora’s resolve. She raises her hand and shakes her head.

“We’re not animals in this house. Bellamy, you need to shower and change. Clarke and I will set the table in the meantime” when O is about to protest, probably having come up with another excuse Aurora interrupts her “And your sister will wash her hands and help with the salad, right, Octavia?”

“Okay.” O says grumpy, bottom lip jutted out, eyebrows still furrowed but before Bellamy stands up, she kisses his cheek and then goes on to help with dinner.

When they sit together at the table that night, Bellamy finally feels his soul at peace.

They pass their food around, his mom and Clarke laugh at O’s poor attempts at telling them jokes and he’s mostly quiet, observing it all, letting it all back into his heart, filling in the shell of a person that he’s become with real memories again, real feelings.

The intensity it hits him with makes his eyes fill with tears and his mom must notice because she reaches to cover his hand with hers and squeeze it tightly.

When O’s eyes start to droop, Clarke insists she’ll take her to bed but he stops her.

“A promise is a promise.” he says and picks his sister up, carrying her to her room.

He puts her down, helps her change into her PJs and lays in bed with her, pulling her to his good side, taking out his ruffled pages and opening them up. O’s eyes go wide again and though she yawns, she gets ready to listen.

He thinks she’ll pass out before he’s done but she manages to keep up and when he’s done reading and he kisses her head she pulls closer to him.

“You liked it?”

“Loved it!” she promises and he smiles “The princess was so brave!”

“Just like you are.” O shakes her head.

“No…like you” her little finger jabs at his chest and he looks at her surprised. “You’re strong, Bell. I want to be like you…and the princess.” that makes his eyes fill with tears once more. Despite everything they’ve been through, despite the fact that Octavia knew where Bellamy had really spent all those months, she didn’t hate him.

He had been so afraid she would.

And now here she was, letting him hold her and read her his words all the while saying how much she wants to look like him.

He’s so speechless, he barely misses when she mumbles something else.

“And I want to fight dragons.”

That makes him chuckle.

“Oh, you will, O. You will.” he promises and keeps stroking her hair until her breathing evens out.

He stays there just for a few more minutes, feeling once again tonight, at peace-here his little sister was, sleeping in his arms, her breathing strong, her heart beat nothing like his or his mother's. Here she was-the only one of them who’d have a chance at a good future.

It is in that moment that he promises himself he’d make sure she gets it.

When he goes back to the kitchen his mom and Clarke suddenly cease whatever conversation they were having when they see him and that makes him think they were discussing him and how he must look but they just give him polite smiles and his mom tugs him to sit back on the chair.

“We made tea.” Aurora says putting a cup in front of him which makes him groan.

“You know I hate it.”

“Yes, but it’s good for you. You need to cut down on your coffee.” Clarke adds pouring some of the bland concoction they must’ve just made as it was steaming hot, in the cup.

He wraps his hands around it, wanting to warm up his fingers. He wasn’t as warm as he had been before juvie.

Now he constantly felt cold ever since he was forced to live in a cell where the electricity stopped all the time at night and he was covered in nothing but a thin blanket.

It’s not like they hadn’t lived like that here too. As a child, he remembers how Aurora would take him to her bedroom and make him jump under the covers before she pulled the blankets over their head and made them blow hot air into their freezing fingers. 

“It’s our little igloo, Bellamy. We’ll always be warm here.” she had told him even when she was shivering but still pulling his small body to hers to share their heat. She always made him wear more than a few shirts and a sweater to bed.

“O sound asleep?” his mom asks and he gives them a quiet nod when they both settle down to their places.

He knew this moment would come, that they’d need to talk to him, maybe ask him questions and it made sense to him-they haven’t really seen in each other in two months. He had no idea how he looked to them right now-has he changed much?

He hasn’t looked himself in the mirror except for the brief times when they showered or were allowed to shave in the common bathrooms and even then he was disgusted with himself and the way he looked-all the bruises covering his body, the bullet scar in his shoulder-it made him shiver and look away.

“So…let’s just get this over with.” he says quietly voice hoarse and they both look at him with seemingly confused expressions before they exchange a knowing look, confirming his suspicion that they’ve been discussing it while he was putting his sister to bed. 

“Whatever it is you want to say, you can say it, mom.”

She reaches once again to cover his hand with hers but on instinct he pulls away and he refuses to meet her probably disappointed expression.

“I’m sorry, I just-” he swallows hard and reaches his hand out for her “I’ve…not had much human contact in the past few months” he smiles sadly when he dares a peak at her before quickly casting his eyes down again “I must’ve forgotten how that feels like.”

“Oh, Bell….”

“It’s okay, mom.” he promises squeezing her hand in his this time “What’s on your guys mind?” Clarke’s leaning back on her chair and he hates that her expression is also one of pity because she’s never given him that before, not even when her dad and her caught him in their garage, not even when he asked her for help with his mom, which meant…he probably looked quite awful.

“How are you?” she spills and her voice is careful as if she’s afraid she’ll break him “Really.”

“I’m…” he shrugs “I’m not sure if I have to be honest. Being there…it changed me and I’ll probably need some time getting used to the way things are so-”

“That’s alright.” Aurora reassures “We just want you to know you can tell us everything.”

He wants to laugh at that because the truth is…he couldn’t.

He couldn’t tell her how bad it felt when Emerson beat him with that baton.

He couldn’t even begin to explain how it felt like when Gabriel reassigned him to janitor duty because of his heart and how it made some of the other kids envious and angry, which resulted in a lot of fights.

He couldn’t admit that a few weeks before he left, he was approached by a guy named Dax, who worked for Anya and who warned him that if he had said something or even thinks about giving anything out, she’ll find him and make sure he spends a lot more than two months in juvie.

He couldn’t tell them he gave him that black eye he carried around now, that it was him who attacked him late one evening while he was wiping one of the hallways clean and he got jumped from behind.

And he couldn’t talk about the fear he felt when Dax pulled out a shiv and threatened to slice his throat, then kicked him until he passed out and woke up all alone by a guard who dragged him back to his cell unceremoniously.

No…

He couldn’t do that.

Some things, he thought, were better left unsaid. 

They didn’t need to know what didn’t concern them, moreover those were things already in the past.

What would change if they found out? It was over.

He could deal with the nightmares on his own. The shivering, the fear of someone touching him out of a sudden like his mom just had, the panic that coarsed through his body whenever someone dropped something or reached out to show him something or how it made his body freeze with pure raw blinding fear.

He didn’t use to be this person.

And it’s not like he didn’t fight all those kids who teased him back. He did, but they were always more than him and in his already weakened state they could easily overpower him.

But he wasn’t strong. Not anymore.

And maybe he shouldn’t be. Maybe all he had to do was be his mother’s son. Work hard and help her raise his sister. Be a good boy, the boy she always needed him to be, not the bully or the street fighter or the criminal.

“And you can let us help you.” Clarke adds when he doesn’t respond to his mom right away, buried in his thoughts.

“I know.” he reassures with ease.

Lies. He was good at that.

Back at juvie he figured out he didn’t always have to pull up such a hard fight about everything. He could lie like he did with Gabriel, promise him he felt fine, that his heart was good, that no, his shoulder didn’t hurt and grit his teeth when the doctor checked him out.

Moreover, he had to reside to that now. Things were hard at home, he could see it. His mom couldn’t be making a lot of money and the loan aunt Leah gave them must probably be almost spent. He had to pull his weight in.

This time, the good way. The honest way.

And if he had to be dishonest about the way he felt inside, he could do that, he could sacrifice it.

After all, hadn’t they already given everything for him.

All the money Aurora had to pay the lawyer, money that could be spent on his sister or on fixing their roof.

All the packages they sent him with food and clothes he could’ve survived without. All the medication she had to buy for him and herself and then send it over so he doesn’t die behind the bars he send himself to. 

“Have you thought about what you want to do now?” Aurora asks carefully threading over the elephant in the room but he gives her a quiet but certain nod which must surprise her.

“I reached out to Raven when I was still inside. Asked if she knows if someone’s hiring. She told me there’s this body shop in Meka, owned by a guy called Sinclair. Said she will put up a good word for me but I had to prove myself if he hired me.”

“You’ve always been good with cars.” his mom says softly praising him and he smiles but he doesn’t let it reach his heart. “I don’t want you tiring yourself out if you’re not ready, though. You can take a month or at least a few weeks to figure it all out.”

“No, I think…I think I need to do this.” he fights for that with fever.

There was no way he’d lay around letting her do all the work and provide when she was clearly not that well again. But the only way he could convince her is if he made it about himself and not her or his sister. 

“I think it will be good for me. I got used to keeping busy all the time.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself too much, though.” Clarke adds and his mom agrees with her. “If it’s heavy work, you could get overwhelmed.”

He smiled at the subtle way Clarke talked about his poor physical health. His princess had always been a great diplomat. He joked one time that she should abandon any thought of medicine and go into polisci instead. She’d make a badass politician.

“She’s right.” his mom agrees before he can protest “And I still want Jackson to check you out so we should go there tomorrow.”

“I’m fine, mom.” he reassures “The doctor inside already examined me before I left.”

“Still, I need it for my own peace of mind.” she insists and he smiles at her ability to constantly worry but then again he did inherit it from her.

“Okay.” he agrees and they seem surprised that he’s not pulling up any more of a fight “And I don’t think the work will be that hard but I’ll check it out and figure it from there.” he assures and that makes Clarke happy because she leans back on the chair.

“Any chance you want to tell me how you got that bruise?” his mom prods after taking a sip of her tea, eyeing him carefully.

They did that now-looked at him as if he had returned from war and any minute he’d explode. Maybe they had a point…at times inside it really did feel like it.

“Believe it or not I actually fell down.” his mom raises and eyebrow but since it’s not just his eye but half his face covered in a big blue bruise, he makes up the convincing story of tripping over while wiping the floor and swearing that it didn’t hurt as much as it may seem.

When she asks if his arm hurts too he promises it doesn’t and makes sure he steadies it while he says it.

“It shakes all the time now, no matter what.” he promises “It’s just another thing to get used to."

“Tell me how you are, mom.” he begs “How’s work? You’re not overtiring yourself, are you?”

“I mostly work from home lately.” she assures “And Clarke’s always here to remind me to rest when I get a little carried away.” she turns to her and Clarke’s cheeks go red, her inability to take a compliment making her awkwardly drink from her tea.

“And what did Jackson say when you went to see him?” she shrugs and gives him a small but strong smile.

“The usual. There’s not much he can do but he’s trying to readjust the medicine again. Wants to get me in some experimental drug program.”

“That’s good.”

“It costs quite a lot, though.” she furrows her eyebrows “The treatment that is…if I get approved, I’ll need to spend some time in the hospital.”

“We’ll figure it out.” he promises. “We’ll start saving more when I get a job.”

“I’ve actually…well-” his mom turns to Clarke again before meeting his eyes “I’ve saved some money for you.”

“Me?” he asks confused, getting ready to fight her on whatever she came up with now “What for?”

“We looked into GED programs.” Clarke chimes in “There’s a course that’s starting in a month that you could sign up for. Five days a week, all evening classes in the local library. You could be done by May.”

“I don’t think…I mean, I want to do it” he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed by the fact that his mom needs to do this now-save money for his education when he could’ve never gotten himself involved in any criminal activity in the first place and simply graduated school like everyone else. “But I think that…I shouldn’t rush it.”

“Bellamy-”

“I’m not in the right mindset now, mom.” he cuts her off and it comes out harsher than he intended and he sees their surprised reactions when they both look at him confused “I just…I think I’ll need some time.”

“That’s good. I don’t want to push you. I just don’t want you to give up on yourself.”

“I won’t.” 

_Another lie. He already has._

“As I said, I just…think that…” he shrugs “Maybe in the fall, okay?” Aurora smiles but he sees it’s fake. She’s worried about that and he’ll have to figure something out so she doesn’t have to deal with carrying that on her shoulders as well “You don’t need to keep that money. I’ll earn my own and pay for it myself.”

“Bellamy, that’s not what I want, I just-”

“We could use it for your treatment.” he interrupts “And Octavia.”

“I think she just wants you to have this, Bell” Clarke chimes in and he nods, intertwining his hands together.

“I know and I am grateful for it. I really am.” he promises reaching to squeeze his mom’s hand again even if briefly. He didn’t think his cold bones deserved her warmth 

“I just want to do this on my own. Want to be able to pull it off by myself, without any help.” Aurora opens her mouth to protest but he continues before she can “And yes I realize that you’re my mother and you want to do this for me but…” he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair “I got myself in this mess, I dropped out of school and started stealing other people’s cars…I just need to be able to fix it all on my own. Get a job, earn money then finish school, okay?” he explains patiently and Aurora seems to understand his point because her eyes fill with tears and she stands up, comes behind him and wraps her arms around his neck.

Clarke tilts her head and smiles fondly at the sight, her heart probably aching, desperately wondering what it would feel like if her mom was ever that gentle with her.

“I’m proud of you, Bellamy.” his mom whispers and he wants to tell her she shouldn’t be.

That he hasn’t done anything to make her feel that way, that all he’s ever been is a boy without a clear path before him, getting himself into trouble and promising he’ll help her out but instead making a bigger mess out of everything.

What was she proud of exactly, he wanted to ask her.

That he got himself in juvie? That he had the shit beaten out of him while inside? That he left her and his little sister to fend off for themselves even though she was sick and shouldn’t be working at all? That he’ll never finish school for real but get a crappy GED that won’t do nothing for him in the real world?

He swallows it down, though and closes his eyes when she kisses his cheek, letting the warmth spread over him even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“Thanks, mom.” he mumbles even if it takes him all his strength not to fight with her about her words “I also wanted to thank you both for the way you handled this.” he continues after clearing his throat “For talking to me, writing with me…sending me money and food even when I-” he chokes on that and pulls away from his mom’s embrace, leaning heavily on the table.

“When I didn’t deserve it.”

“Bellamy, don’t.” Clarke moves over to the chair his mom occupied till a moment ago and reaches to rub his forearm with her thumb in a soothing manner. He lets her.

He’s weak and so he lets her.

He’s been craving human contact for months.

“Don’t beat yourself up over nothing.” she adds but he can’t face her, instead he keeps staring at his feet.

“Of course you deserved it.” his mom adds and her voice is a little angry now but he’s surprised when she kneels by his side and picks his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Bellamy, you’re not a bad person.”

He squeezes his eyes shut at that, trying not to let the tears spill. 

“Do you hear me?” she says, tightening her grip just a bit and forcing him to open his eyes. It’s the first time he lets himself see her, truly see her and his heart aches for a hug, a real one, not a desperate longing one like after he came out and found them on the parking lot but a gentle, warm loving hug. “You’re not the monster you make yourself out to be.”

_Yes, I am, he thinks. I am. I always have been._

She must sense that he doesn’t believe her because she stands up and pulls his head to her side, stroking his head and holding him close.

He still keeps his eyes close, relishing in the closeness of his mom holding him like he had begged her to all those months when he was in juvie, rolling on the floor getting beaten up or lying in his bed struggling to breathe because of his broken ribs.

“Do you understand me, Bellamy?” his mom asks once more after his racing heart had slowed down a bit and she moves his head up to face him. He suddenly feels embarrassed for showing himself so weak in front of his mom and Clarke when he had promised that he’d be strong and not let them see how bad he really was. 

He pulls away suddenly aware of the circumstances and she must feel that something changed really fast because once again she purses her lips and looks at him with worry.

“I do.” he promises, quickly standing up and leaning on the table a moment too long “I’ll…I’ll go watch some TV before bed.” he cuts her off, desperate to hide away from them both.

Clarke, however stands up abruptly as well.

“I should go home.”

“Nonsense, it’s late, you’re staying.” Aurora says voice leaving any room for discussion “You can both sleep in Bell’s room. O’s been with me in the past few months anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Clarke tries meekly, throwing Bellamy sheepish glances and he understands why she feels like that-they’ve not been close to one another like that in months.

And as much as he craved it, he knew they couldn’t.

Not with the way he slept.

Or more like couldn’t sleep at all.

“Mom’s right, princess. You should stay.” the moment the words leave his mouth she seems to exhale “I’ll watch some TV and join you in a bit, okay?”

Clarke easily agrees, not suspecting that he never planned to go back to his bed but instead spend most of the night on the uncomfortable couch. His mom gives him another quick peck on the lips and wishes him goodnight and Clarke follows soon after heading for his room.

He stays there leaning on the wall for a moment too long, taking in the poor living conditions before him.

When he’s sure both his mom and Clarke are in bed, he moves around-opens the fridge and finds it mostly empty except for some eggs and a bottle of milk and orange juice.

There was some bread in the cupboard but it was on the way to becoming stale. No meat or fruits.

The oatmeal was almost finished too. Coffee was scarce but there was a lot of tea.

No sugar but some honey that has been there from before he went to juvie.

The line of orange bottles by the water bottle his mom used had gotten longer. He picks them up, eyes roaming over the too-hard-to-pronounce names recognizing two of them and finding them almost empty. 

He goes to the brown box with his meager possessions that they left by the door and fishes his own orange bottles out, then comes to the kitchen and spills half the content of the medicine they shared in his mom’s bottles.

Then picks up a piece of orange paper and writes down the names of the rest he doesn’t know, deciding he’ll check how much they cost tomorrow and if he got that job at Sinclair, promising himself he’ll buy her the next round with his first pay check. 

He keeps on like that, checking things around as quietly as he can. He finds the toaster broken yet again so he takes it outside to the back porch, fishes a pack of cigarettes left there in his jacket before he went to juvie, digs in his metal tool box and starts fixing it.

He doubts he’ll get any sleep tonight, as tired as he is so he can at least do as much as he can while they were asleep.

He’s done with that an hour later but he’s still smoking, legs outstretched before him, fingers cold blue from the crisp January night but strangely he thinks he can keep sitting here a long while and still be fine.

The chill in his bones fit perfectly with the winter around him, they weren’t opposites-they didn’t attract but instead easily fell into each other like a wave returning to the ocean’s depth only to eventually come out later.

Though cigarettes were bad for him or…more like for his heart, they worked their miracles on his anxious self. By the time he was done with half the back, he was ready to go back inside, put the toaster at it’s rightful place, turn the light of the kitchen and the living room off and head for the couch. 

He turns the TV on just for disguise, in case someone, either his mom or Clarke woke up in the middle of the night and he needed the excuse that he fell while watching, tosses his jacket on the armchair, kicks his old sneakers off and drops dead on the couch.

The barely audible noise from the TV starts easily pulling him to sleep and as much as he doesn’t want it to, he starts falling.

He’s tired, the day has been a lot and his whole body aches though he hasn’t done any real work today.

He still can feel his heart beat fast and irregular in his chest, slowing down or speeding up every now and then, his arm thrown over his face aches but it’s that sweet dull pain he’s gotten used to in the past few months, not the sharp throbbing one.

Those are all the sounds of his own body’s lullaby, puling him to seemingly healthy and much needed sleep.

Except it can never be that.

Not anymore.

He wakes up when he falls off the couch and into the floor with a hard whip. His body must’ve tossed left and right for quite a while and when he opens his eyes and there’s nothing but darkness around him, he forgets for a second that he’s home and thinks he’s still back there and any moment now, the sharp pain of someone’s baton crushing in his ribs will follow.

Except it doesn’t.

His ribs still hurt but it’s because he’s breathing too harsh.


	11. Deserve the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a longer one but I just couldn't figure out how to split the moments without making it look like I cut something off in the middle of the action, so here it is.
> 
> Just wanna give the heads up that with Bellamy coming out of juvie we hit a milestone and now this is the second part of the story, so we're kind of...midway, I believe. But what comes now, in a few chapters especially, is some pretty hard stuff. This isn't a...rosy fic. Just an FYI. Tags are and will be adjusted accordingly.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

His shirt is drenched and his breathing shallow. When he’s certain that there are no steps coming to him, ready to grab him by the collar and drag him to his cell or beat the shit out of him in the middle of the hallway, but instead what he hears is just the noise coming from the TV, probably some old scary movie or something, he forces himself to calm down and roll on his back.

He stares at the darkness of the ceiling and surprisingly, it’s calming.

Even back in juvie, he felt fine when the lights were turn off and the guards did the counting. It was later, when he let himself fall that the demons came at him.

It wasn’t even that much what he was seeing while he was asleep. He was just experiencing the things that were done to him over and over again but so what? They were just beatings.

Batons in his ribs, boots in his face. When he thought about it now as he was fully awake, he realized he shouldn’t fear it. It wasn’t anything that he hasn’t seen or experienced before.

He was used to it but in reality, he shouldn’t fear it.

Saying it of course, was one thing, but when he dreamed about it…he couldn’t really put any rational thought in it and force himself not to feel like that.

What the problem was, what caused his lungs to refuse to comply and pull air in, what made him sweat through every sheet of cloth he had on, what made his heart go crazy in his chest was that feeling that he got while he dreamed.

That feeling of dread and utter deep sadness. It pulled at him, left him shaking and he usually woke up crying which was the worst of it all.

He wished he could scream but instead all he could do was… _cry_.

And it wasn’t just a few tears streaming down his face that he could brush away and forget about,no, this was different, he couldn’t stop.

He was shaking so hard and it felt as if he was pouring his entire soul out, like someone hurt him and he couldn’t patch it up but he could dull it by crying.

_And he hated that._

_He hated feeling weak._

So like all those times before he stood up and he itched to go outside and smoke again, except he couldn’t-it was too early, just three a.m and it would be really cold outside. The last thing he or his mom needed was for him to get sick so instead he simply fell back on the couch and stared at the TV.

He tried to focus on some cooking reality (turned out it wasn’t a scary movie at all but someone stirring fry a bit too hard in an enormous pan) but his thoughts always took him somewhere else and he couldn’t focus.

Finally, with a huff, he stood up and started searching for some paper and a pen.

When he dug out one of Octavia’s old composition books and a short pencil (apparently she was very fond of her pens and must’ve hidden them out of his sight), he dragged himself to the kitchen table, turned the light on and sat down to write.

At first he simply stared at the blank pages.

When he opened the book he found that his sister has practiced on her cursive here until she apparently abandoned it completely and tossed the book so far away it ended under the couch where he got it from. He doesn’t tear those pages away, instead, he stares at them for a moment, then turns the pages till he gets to a clean one and fiddles with the pencil for a moment too long.

He decides that if he thinks too much of it, he’ll end up not writing anything at all so instead he leaves his mind blank of any judgmental thoughts and lets his heart speak for him, quite literally, just so he could stop his tears.

He’s done that a couple times in juvie too.

Woke up in the middle of the night and wrote on the light coming from the hallway.

It was peaceful, the place was quiet and almost as if empty.

You wouldn’t think there are kids sleeping in the endless rows of cells until one of them turned in their sleep and said something funny too loudly or someone snored so hard it woke their cell mate. 

It is how he wrote O’s story too-in the middle of the night when there was no one to see him bear his soul, when there wasn’t anyone to look at his face and see his tears. 

This was his way of simultaneously quieting his heart, calming it down and setting it free.

He could patch up the leak, as he liked calling it, stop the tears but also help it beat regularly, easily, by writing down what he felt.

At some point, he gets the urge to smoke again and this time it’s too overwhelming so he opens the kitchen window and lights one up while he keeps scribbling down in the notebook.

An hour or so later, he finally stops, closes it up and hides it outside on the back porch, under one of the floor boards that could be moved up-a secret place for him that he’s been using since he was a boy.

When he lifts it up now, he finds a few packs of cigarettes he has forgotten he’s stashed there as well as his metal box which had twenty bucks and some change in it and he shoves it all in his pocket, deciding to use it later for food.

When he’s done and he has successfully cleared the air in the kitchen from his shenanigans, he gets on breakfast-makes some pancakes for his mom, Clarke and O and by the time Aurora’s up, stumbling to the kitchen in her PJs and her green woven scarf wrapped around her slim shoulders,he’s about done with everything and sipping on his coffee.

“You’re up early.” she comments when she sits down and he puts a plate before her.

“We woke up at five there…” he shrugs as an excuse “Guess I’ve gotten used to it. Here, there’s enough for O and Clarke too.” he promises when he pushes the plate to her hands and under his scrutinizing gaze forces her to eat. 

“Did you sleep alright?” she asks him, still quite baffled by his behavior though this wasn’t the first time her son woke up early to make them breakfast but it was usually her who was the early riser, the one who made sure they had something to eat or they’d skip their first meal of the day entirely.

“Yeah, all good.” he promises with a light smile and leans to kiss her cheek “I’ll go shower and then head out to Meka.” he still hasn’t changed from the clothes they picked him up with and though the sweat that had drenched after his nightmare was no longer visible, he knew he needed to get himself in order, wash all the bad memories from it, away.

His mom wraps her hand around his wrist a moment before he leaves and pulls him down.

“You sure you’re okay?”

He gives her a soft smile and kisses her cheek gently, shyly, almost like when he was a little boy and he was giving her a card for mother’s day, expecting her reaction.

Except now there was no reaction to be expected.

She’s seen all the disappointment there was in him.

There was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I’m fine,mom.” he says with ease.

He’s about to leave the kitchen when Clarke comes in in all her sleepy princessy glory, her hair up in a disheveled loose pony tail falling down in every direction, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.

He takes a moment to look at her, admire her like that in all her soft morning glory and he smiles without even realizing it, which she however notices.

“Don’t laugh.” she grunts when she reaches out to the cup he still held and upon finding some coffee in it, she quickly drowns it down but groans.

“I need more.”

“There’s some on the counter, princess.” he says chuckling.

Clarke in the morning was a whole different beast. One he found himself wanting to see every single day just because she was so adorable. She moved around the kitchen like a zombie, reaching her hands, trying to find something, like a kid with grabby little fingers trying to detect the cookies her mom kid from her.

He spares a moment to lean on the door frame and watch her stumble, bump in the chairs and almost fall over his mom, who obviously though aware of her morning state, still smiles at her.

When she finds the pot of coffee she reaches for a cup blindly with one hand stretched to the drier so he rushes in and gives her one before she can make a mess and break their meager possessions.

“Here, princess.” he grabs her arms and turns her around making her lean on the counter while he fills her cup and hands it to her.

When her hands wrap tightly around the warm liquid she first moves it to her nose where she simply breathes it in and the smell alone makes her smile and her eyelids open just a tad bit more. 

“She like this every morning?” he asks his mom and Aurora nods with a smile as they observe Clarke taking her first sip of good warm coffee and then visibly relax.

“Oh, yeah.” Aurora confirms and finally greets her properly “Morning, Clarke.”

“Mor’nin”

“Apparently it’ll take a few more cups for you to be able to respond properly, huh?” he jokes still leaning on the counter, too close to her, letting himself get lost in the smell of her sleepy state-how she felt so warm and sweet and he’s reminded of the few times he spend with her wrapped around his body, how peaceful it all was.

_He’s never known peace like that since then._

“Well make sure you get some food in your stomach before you destroy that pot.” he warns and squeezes her shoulder tightly.

“Did you eat?” she asks, left eye wide open but the other still pretty much closed which made her look so funny. 

“Considering I made breakfast yes, I did.” he chuckles “Gotta go now, though.”

“You never came to bed last night.” Clarke comments when he’s just about to leave. He tenses upon her words and feels his mom’s look on him but he tries to play it cool.

“Yeah well, I fell asleep watching TV and only woke up at dawn.” he brushes off lightly “All the more space for you, princess.” he jokes and bids them goodbye before they can say anything else.

He’s off the door and he can’t wait to light another cigarette so he’s far enough from the house that no one can see him. 

He’s forgotten how good it felt like to take the bus and get lost in it all while you got to the place you needed to be.

It was the most relaxing thing he had experienced even since before he went to juvie.

All he did was lean back on his seat and stare out the window, not think about anything…or at least try to. He simply observed, watched as the landscape changed drastically as they went from Arkadia, through Hydra and then Meka.

Though Meka wasn’t as good of a neighborhood as Sanctum it was better than Hydra and could never be compared at all to his own home place.

Yes, there were middle class families living there but then there were also upper class, the houses weren’t as big or glamorous as those in Sanctum but they were quite fancy and spacious, the streets were cleaner, people walked the streets in suits and freshly ironed clothes, even the corner shops and the diners seemed fancy, somehow all similar with their retro style.

It felt as if he suddenly ended up another universe, a different city entirely.

He hadn’t been to Meka since he was maybe thirteen or fourteen and his mom took him here to this barber after he had accidentally chopped his hair off in the most ridiculous way.

He remembers still, how he begged her then, to go into that candy shop just down the street or how he stopped at the toy shop windows and marveled at the cars and rifles or the fluffy plush toys displayed there.

He had begged his mom for this cute stuffed fox he saw once-it was bright orange, had a sweet hat on and a little black vest.

He has no idea why he fell in love with it but his mom had realized he really wanted it and so she went inside and asked how much it cost.

He still won’t forget the way the retailer eyed them with caution before replying. She had simply glanced down at him and shook her head and he had quietly looked at his feet and cried on the bus ride home.

Later, his mom made him a little stuffed with rice fox herself.

She sew it up on her own, knitted a tiny vest, even found a hat from somewhere and gave it to him for his birthday.

He had never been happier. It was still in his room, sitting on the bedside drawer and he remembers how he held it to his chest at night and wouldn’t go to sleep without it.

He loved it so much even now, even Octavia knew not to play with it too much as not to ruin it. Sometimes he sat on the bed and held it in his hands, smiling at all the memories he had of playing with it on the cold floor while his mom worked at the Lightbournes.

By the time he jumps off the bus and starts walking to Sinclair’s garage, he’s so lost in thoughts, he almost skips the same toy shop that still exist in that exact same place.

He stops for a second to look at it and finds a beautiful medium sized doll with a green flowery dress and pretty blond braid staring at him with the warmest of smiles.

He can imagine O playing with it but when his eyes fall to the price tag, his heart clenches and with a sight, he passes it by, thinking that maybe if he gets this job, he could buy it for her.

See her genuinely smile and play with it because all her toys were either run downs from other kids or stuff his mom made herself and it’s not that she was bad at it, it’s just he realized that craving inside O-the need to have something new given to you, something that belonged to no one else and would always be yours and yours alone.

When he makes it to the garage he finds the place busy and he’s surprised to realize it was not as small as he’d imagined it would be. He has to ask around for Sinclair before he’s directed to a darker corner of the shop where a man in his late forties is bend over an old red truck, huffing and puffing, cursing quietly.

“Excuse me, are you Jacapo Sinclair?”

“Who needs to know?” he huffs annoyed and never turns back.

“I’m a friend of Raven Reyes…Bellamy Blake. She said she talked to you about me.”

When he raises his head up he hits it in the hood and that causes him to curse even more loudly before he jumps off and finally faces him.

His smile is gentle and he eyes him curiously while rubbing the back of his hand and then extending it to him.

It’s greasy and dirty but Bellamy still takes it shamelessly.

“Ah, yes.” he says as he leans on the hood of the car and crosses his arms over his chest “She did mention you” he couldn’t miss the way he said that part, though, the doubt in his voice, the worry even.

“She said you’re looking for another mechanic.”

“As you can see we have quite a lot of things to fix and not enough hands.” Sinclair explains gesturing at the chaos around “Reyes worked for me since she was fourteen and she vouched for you. Said you might be the best damn mechanic after her of course which is big praise coming from her mouth.” Bellamy blushes at that and looks away shyly shrugging his shoulders.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was thirteen.” he explains quietly “My mom’s Toyota wouldn’t start and we couldn’t afford getting it fixed so I went to the library and found all the books and manuals I could, then worked on it myself.” Sinclair raises his eyebrows seemingly impressed with that but keeping him opinion to himself. At least for now.

“And could you?”

“Got only halfway through it.” he chuckles “Raven saw me struggling outside our house. She lived nearby back then and she spend the afternoon helping me out.”

“So together you figured it out?”

“Not quite.” Sinclair chuckles at that but to Bellamy this is the first warm look anyone has given him outside of juvie.

Well…anyone who wasn’t Clarke or his mom who mostly worried and pitied him.

“Then we worked together in this body shop in Arkadia and with time I got the hang of it. She’s taught me all her tricks.” Sinclair nods apparently happy with his response and then moves away from the car and drags the dirty rag off his back pocket, trying to wipe his hands clean, though unsuccessfully.

“She mentioned you went to juvie.”

“Just got out yesterday in fact.”

“What were you in for?” Bellamy swallows hard, that was the hard part and he knew it was coming but he still wasn’t prepared.

“Car theft.” that makes Sinclair purse his lips if only for a moment and they grow quite, letting the sound of the machines buzzing around take in. 

“Is this a joke to you, kid?” he asks, voice ice cold and Bellamy whips his head up only to face the stony cold expression of the man. He swallows hard and shoves his trembling hand in his jeans pocket, desperate to hide away his weakness.

Then he takes in a shuddering breath and forces himself to remain calm. After all no matter what he still had to carry his mistakes with pride. It’s the way he was raised-yes, he stole, yes, he was ashamed of himself in more ways than the man before him probably knew, but he knew better now and he had to do better. Not for himself but for everyone else in his life.

Then again he’s only done wrong because of them too.

Which is why he wouldn’t be ashamed. 

“Look, Raven told me you would be willing to take up on someone like me but if that’s not the case, I’ll-”

“I’m just making you sweat kid.” Sinclair interrupts him and suddenly his cold voice is replaced with a softer one and a smile grazes his face. Bellamy must look so stunned that it makes him chuckle before he reaches to pat his shoulder.

It takes everything in Bellamy not to flinch at the movement but he forces himself to stay still.

“A few of the other boys here have also been arrested for petty crimes. Some of them did time like you.” he explains and Bellamy relaxes a bit at that “I like giving people a second chance.”

Bellamy nods and gives him a grateful smile.

“Raven told me about you, she vouched you’re good but according to her “cold be a dumb ass idiot sometimes.” Bellamy chuckles at that and rubs the back of his head shyly “I’m deciding to believe her.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” he says more seriously now “You’re right-I like giving people a second chance but if they screw with it or me, they’re out, do you understand.”

“Of course.”

“There will be a trial period of a month. If everything goes smoothly and you don’t cause any trouble but work hard and do the things I need you to the way I want them we’ll be fine.” Bellamy nods in understanding once again.

“That sounds fair.”

“Good. Now is there anything else you’d like to tell me before you start?” he’s clearly looking for honesty and Bellamy contemplates for a minute.

If he told him he’s sick, he might change his mind and things already weren’t really working in his favor.

He didn’t want to risk adding anything else concerning him specifically but he also wanted to take the hand that had been extended to him. 

“My mom’s sick and I have a ten year old sister.” he explains and is glad when Sinclair doesn’t give him a pitiful look but instead just listens to him with the curiosity of a man who truly cared about someone and didn’t want to just pry out unnecessary details. 

“Sometimes…mom gets bad and I need to be there for her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” the mechanic says with gentleness Bellamy hadn’t heard from a grown man since before his time in juvie if not earlier “If there ever comes the need for you to take a day off, you can always call me and we’ll work things out.”

“Thank you.” Bellamy’s so emotional that his voice comes out a little hoarse and he has to force himself to swallow down his tears before Sinclair saw them.

He hasn’t been showed kindness like this since Clarke saved his life. Twice. 

“Good. Then it’s settled. You can start by figuring out what’s wrong with this piece of shit truck and it’s not the radiator, I’ve checked twice.” he nods at the banged up truck behind him and throws him his greasy towel “No one else has been able to fix it for the past week and the owner will come back soon asking if we’re done. Again. And trust me you don’t want to deal with the guy so-”

“I got it.” Bellamy promises and takes up on checking the car. 

He knows that Sinclair observes him at first, lingering somewhere at the back where his office is but Bellamy gets too wrapped up in his work that he doesn’t even begin to care about that.

Moreover, he tells himself, it was only fair of the guy to keep an eye on him considering he was in juvie for a crime he could easily commit here if he decides to.

Bellamy throws away his jacket, rolls up his sleeves and gets onto digging the problem.

A few hours later his hands are covered in grease and so is half his face but he smiles when he figures out exactly what’s screwed up and calls Sinclair over to show him that it’s actually a part of the engine. 

The man seems impressed but he doesn’t show it except for another pat on the back-that seems to be his trade mark if Bellamy had anything to go by.

He had noticed some of the other guys eyeing him curiously but he isn’t there to really make acquaintances.

By the end of the day when he’s about half done fixing the truck, he’s so wrapped up in the job that he doesn’t even realize it’s gotten dark.

It’s only then that Sinclair gives him the tour around and introduces the other guys. Bellamy thinks he must’ve wanted to check if he was hard working or if he’d give up and leave after a few hours but he must be so far pleased with him. 

Bellamy actually wants to keep working some more and when the rest of the guys leave but Sinclair stays behind to do some paper work he asks him if he can keep up and the man seems surprised at that but gives him a nod.

Bellamy realizes only later why he was confused-he must’ve though he wants to check out how the place looks at night, how the locks and the security system work and only when the thought occurs to him, half an hour or so later, does he step from the truck and bids Sinclair goodbye before he can close.

He doesn’t want to give him any unnecessary stress, make him wonder if he was right to let him in or not.

The thought doesn’t leave his mind even when he goes on the bus stop and smokes while waiting for the bus to come.

The way Sinclair had looked at him, the flash of fear in his eyes that lasted just a few seconds but that was still enough for Bellamy to notice it.

He’d gotten good at that, after all, he had to see it in his own mother’s eyes so many times after he started getting himself involved with Anya and she had no idea what was happening. Why was her son coming home so late? He couldn’t be doing something bad? Or could he?

That brief moment of doubt in her eyes when she looked at him.

That’s what he saw in Sinclair now too. It made his heart hurt and though the rational part of his brain told him it was human and made all the sense considering…still…he couldn’t shake it.

He’d never be able to shake that bad part of him, would he? Maybe that was all he ever was-a monster who got himself in messes and hurt his family and friends.

And maybe he had to accept it and just keep going.

People would look at him a certain way. They’ve always had because he came from Arkadia, because he wore ragged washed out clothes that were too big for him, because he didn’t have enough notebooks or pens for school, because his shoes were torn up.

That…that he was used to. It was pity and it hurt, it’s not like he was indifferent to it but to see fear in the people’s eyes, fear that you caused because of your actions…that feeling found it’s way deep into his soul and settled there refusing to leave.

On the way home, he’s shaken from his thoughts when he sees the corner shop two streets down from their house still working, he hops off and buys as much as he can with the money he found in his metal box of precious possessions.

When he approaches the house he sees the light coming from the windows and his sister’s laugh from inside so he plasters on his fake smile and pushes down all the darkness.

When he comes in and doesn’t immediately find them in the living room, he kicks off his torn up sneakers and follows the voices coming from the kitchen. 

“What on earth are you all doing? he asks once he finds them all hands deep in flour, working on a dough that his sister was spreading around with the help of a rolling pin.

Clarke’s helping her out while his mom is chopping some olives next to them.

“Home made pizza!!!!” Octavia yells joyfully raising the rolling pin in the air and laughing. 

Bellamy smiles but raises an eyebrow at Clarke and his mom who simply shrug and give him a sheepish smile.

“We promised her weeks ago and she was really good when I gave her a math lesson today so she deserved it” Clarke explains and touches her nose leaving a white dot that makes O sneeze and all of them laugh.

Suddenly his heart feels ten times bigger-here he was, coming home from a really hard first day and finding his three most favorite girls making pizza and laughing.

Clarke praising his sister for her hard work after she had taken up on giving her her math, chemistry and bio lessons as Aurora was really bad at those and couldn’t do much to help and his mom observing them with a peaceful expression on her face. One he hasn’t seen in months, if not years.

The realization also makes him think of something else-if this is how they were without him here, if this is how it has been in the past two months while he was away, then wasn’t it better for them?

Maybe he did them a favor when he ended up in juvie. 

“Sounds great.” he replies when he forgets he got too buried in his thoughts again and notices his mom throwing him a worrying look.

“We don’t have any cheese, though.” O complains when she watches Clarke’s fingers expertly form a pretty perfect circle.

“It’s a good thing I bought some then.” he raises the brown bag in his hands and carries it to the counter where he starts taking everything out.

“So I take it since you didn’t come back home, the guy hired you?” his mom prods but he doesn’t turn back right away, instead busying himself with putting everything at its rightful place.

He does notice how the kitchen goes quiet and knows Clarke and even O are perking up at his mom’s question too, waiting for his response.

“He did but I’ll be on trial for a month until he can trust me.” Bellamy explains carefully.

“Why wouldn’t he trust you?” Octavia asks tilting her head at him when he pulls a chair and sits near them to rest his back after spending half the day hunched and tries not to let them see how much his shoulder hurt.

“Octavia-” their mom warns but he shakes his head at her, promising her it’s fine.

“Because I tried to steal a car and this work is at a garage, where there are many of those.” O rubs at her nose trying to connect the dots before she speaks up.

“So he thinks you may want to steal one of his too?”

“That’s right.”

“And if you do, will you go to prison again?” Clarke and Aurora freeze at that and his mom opens her mouth to scold her but Bellamy’s faster.

“I would, but I’m not going to do that.” Bellamy promises but Octavia still contemplates as she sits on her knees and leans on her elbows burying them even in more flour observing as Clarke and his mom started putting things on the dough mostly to busy themselves so the situation doesn’t seem too awkward. “And I wasn’t really in a prison. It was a juvenile detention center.” he adds, keeping his voice steady.

Somehow he finds his sister’s question so much more easier to answer than he would Sinclair or any adult. But he thought Octavia deserved to know the truth and have all her questions answered and he’d be honest with her.

“Isn’t that the same?” his sister huffs annoyed at his correction and he flashes her a smile.

“Well somewhat, but it’s for kids under eighteen like I am.”

“And what did you do there?”

“Okay, I think that’s enough Octavia.” his mom interrupts again but he holds his hand out.

“No, mom, let her ask. I don’t mind it.” both her and Clarke relax at his words but still keep throwing him careful looks. “We mostly worked. Had to do things from glass or plastic, like bottles for example.”

“Was it hard?”

“Not really but I didn’t spent all the time doing that. They moved me in another section and made me a janitor.”

“Like Hersham was at school!” Octavia exclaims with joy that she’s figured out what it all means without him having to explain and Bellamy gives her a slow nod while smiling. “Did you know anyone else in there with you?”

“No, but I made some friends.” Bellamy explains patiently.

“Really?” she seems a little skeptical of that part probably not being able to imagine how people forced to work and then being locked up could make any connections “What did you do?”

“On Sundays I played basketball with Miller. He was in the…he slept near my room.” he doesn’t want to say cell because he refuses to let her picture metal bars and barely lit hallways “Jasper and Monty liked to have chess competitions and sometimes we also played with cards.”

“Cards! So you can teach me and help me beat Clarke!” O says excitedly forgetting about all the other details. He chuckles and dares a look at Clarke who scoffs pretending to be annoyed at his sister’s little victory.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Octavia I think you should go wash your hands and change your clothes before your brother heads in to shower.” his mom finally succeeds in interrupting Octavia’s little interrogation but his sister still opens her mouth to protest though she’s quickly shushed and send off the room with a simple glance by his mom that meant there was no room for argue.

Once alone and with the pizza done and put in the oven, they get a moment to themselves.

“Glad you could join us for dinner, princess.” he comments with a lightly teasing voice.

“I made her stay. She would’ve gone back to that big awful house and spend the night on her own.” his mom chimes in when Clarke explains.

“Dad’s away for a week again.”

“So you should stay with us. I don’t want you in that house all on your own, especially not with the robberies happening in the neighborhood lately.” Aurora adds again, scolding her like her own child and Bellamy watches Clarke blush under her insistent look.

She’s told him all about the recent break ins around Sanctum and he’d lie if he didn’t scold her to stay with his mom and O even back in juvie when they talked on the phone.

He hated the thought of someone coming in their house and hurting her while she was sleeping or studying and had no way to protect herself.

It was, after all, what he had done too all those months ago, except he would’ve never hurt her and those people, whoever they were, carried knives and guns. They weren’t teenagers stealing for someone else-they were hard core criminals.

“I don’t want to intrude anymore than I already am, I-”

“I agree with mom, princess.” Bellamy steps in “You’re staying, it’s not up for debate.”

“But I take up your room and I eat all the food, so-” 

“You brought all the stuff we needed for the pizza and you come in always carrying something sweet for Octavia when you tutor her.” Aurora says in her typical mom mode again “Moreover you’ve done more for us than we can ever repay for.” he nods at that again, feeling the guilt stir at the back of his throat, forcing him to clean his throat “Staying in when you’re alone, especially in those dangerous times, is the least we could do. Right, Bellamy?”

He throws his arms in the air as he stands up.

“I already agreed, mom, but don’t expect me to use her pom poms to cheer you on.” they both laugh at his stupid joke and Clarke slaps his arm with her still white floured hand. 

He flinches when she reaches for him, afraid of the sudden movement and she notices it but he is quick to act swiping up some of the flour left on the table and wiping it all over her face.

She screams at that and he sticks his tongue out but before she can retaliate and this can turn into a full blown food fight, he runs to his room for clean clothes and then jumps in the shower.

He can’t get rid of the imagine of Clarke’s beaming face out of his mind for hours later even though she’s sitting at the dinner table next to him, laughing at his sister’s silly jokes and his mom’s stern comments.

But when the night comes and she asks if he’s coming to bed, he makes another excuse that he’ll watch some TV before bed and repeats the routine from the previous night.

The next few days all go the same way, he never actually joins her in his room but instead always wakes up covered in sweat, smokes half a pack and writes his soul out before passing out for half an hour before he has to get up for work.

She never actually comments on it but he can sense that she’s eyeing him curiously, that she itches to ask him something but always stops herself, that she’s observing him much like Sinclair was at work, trying to determine what was going on.

Then there was also the hurt in her eyes which made him hate himself even more.

He wished he could tell her, he truly did but then again this was better.

If she resented him it wouldn’t be for a reason any different than the truth-that he was a monster who had monstrous nightmares that he deserved because of his bad deeds. 

And all Clarke was and all she’ll ever be _was light and warmth._

When she beamed their kitchen lit up like the morning sun, when she reached to touch you, hold your hand or grip your shoulder or even kiss your cheek, you could feel every fiber of your being suddenly come to life.

**_She was all that was good with the world._ **

And all he carried was a darkness too heavy inside him that pulled him to he ground and wanted to bury him alive.

On the third night, however, he wakes up not because of his nightmare.

He still has it, he’s dreaming of Emerson beating him up on the floor of his cell and throwing glass at him until he covers almost every inch of his body, but it’s not the terror of the experience that pulls him to consciousness.

It’s someone’s hand gripping his wrist and calling his name.

“Bellamy! Bellamy, wake up!”

He opens his eyes with a snap but it still takes him a moment too long to realize that he’s not actually picturing her in the cell next to him while the guard beats him senseless but that this is… _reality_.

He jumps so fast and pulls so hard away from her, she yelps at the action. He’s scrambling to sit up and pull in the furtherest corner of the couch.

_**No,no,no,no,** this wasn’t supposed to happen._

She wasn’t meant to find him like this. All his efforts to stay away from her, hurt her, made her worry over nothing just crashed down and it is the intensity of that thought that makes him whimper harder than the reeling feeling of the nightmare still possessing his body.

He shivers, his entire body is actually trembling so hard and in his shame and in his pain, he covers his head with his hands and buries his head in his knees, bending over and hiding away from her.

His bare feet touch the floor and he tries to force himself to breathe but it’s hard, god it’s so hard and his heart’s racing faster than it has in the previous nights probably because of how aware he is that she’s actually sitting right there.

Or is she?

What if it’s just his mind playing tricks on him? What if this too was a nightmare and he’d look up and see Emerson hurt her instead of him?

He’s afraid to move his head in her direction, afraid to do anything but grips his head and breathe in and out.

If it was a nightmare, he’d wake up and he’ll be all alone-he’d smoke and write it out and the world will restore to it’s fucked up state but if she was here,god if she-

And then she reaches for his shoulder which is how he knows she actually is.

“No.” he whispers and she pulls right away. 

“Bellamy-”

“I’m fine just don’t touch me please.” he blurts out in between struggling to take his breath and thankfully she stays right where she is.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to touch him again and it takes him another few minutes before he even dares look up.

His heart clenches when he finds her there, sitting just an inch away from him, her hands uselessly hanging in her lap, her messy hair tied in a bun, her bare feet looking painfully blue.

The house was cold as hell especially here in the living room but he was used to it, he’s always been used to it but even more since juvie.

He squeezes his eyes when he realizes he’s causing her pain even now, in that moment when he’s not doing anything because she’s there, staring at him with fear and worry, wondering what to do to help him while freezing. 

It is that thought that makes him pull himself together and force his breathing to calm down but of course it’s not that easy, it’s never just that easy.

Still, despite the fact that he’s still shaking like a leaf, that his shirt is drenched and he’s crying, he makes himself move up and rest his elbows on his legs while he struggled to breathe.

“You…You should go back to bed.”

“Like hell I am.” she cuts him off but thankfully she doesn’t make a move to touch him.

“You’re freezing.” he nods at her blue toes which she swiftly tucks under her leg but refuses to meet her eyes. 

“And you can’t fucking breathe I think that beats it.” she stubbornly fights him on it which makes him smile if only briefly when his lungs refuse to contract and he grips his knees to steady himself.

“It’s just a bad nightmare.” he tries but he should know she’s smarter than that.

“No, it’s a full blown panic attack and don’t you dare downplay it, Bellamy.” she reaches to touch him but she must remember how he pulled away and afraid he was when she woke him up because her hand lingers for a moment mid air before it lands on the old ragged couch between them. 

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping in bed with me?” he spares a glance at her if only briefly just to see her cheeks flush when she realizes how it all sounds but the situation is too serious for her to be shy about her phrasing right now.

He closes his eyes again and swallows hard as he finally feels his breathing return to normal.

“You want to talk, princess? Let’s talk…” he whispers as he stands up and sways so violently on his feet he almost falls but somehow miraculously steadies himself “But we should go to the kitchen before we wake up mom and O too.”

Clarke, who upon seeing him standing shots up to her feet as well, follows him, hovering behind his back and with reason as he’s really unsteady. His heart trumps loud in his ears and he knows he should probably take an extra pill to help it calm down but instead he leans on the counter, cracks the window open and fishes out his pack from his pocket.

She wants to argue with him when he lights the cigarette but instead she pulls out a chair and sits, grumpily crossing the arms over her chest.

“That’s not good for you.”

“Nothing ever is.” he says simply taking in a drag and breathing the smoke to his left. 

“So how long has this been going on?” she prods and he takes a moment to rake his fingers through his hair all the while he keeps smoking.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” she cuts off and by the sound of her voice he can tell how angry she is.

He smiles and shakes his head, staring stubbornly at his own naked feet.

“Does it matter?” he’s feeling so sad, so desperate that he forgets that he can still hurt her with his words even after he already did so when he let her see him like this, make her worry.

It makes him hate himself even more.

“It does to me.” 

It shouldn’t, he wants to say but at the same time he’s not sure he has the strength to fight her right now.

She’s picked a quite good moment to catch him as he was always exhausted after a nightmare, feeling his body too heavy to lift and carry around and his mind desperate to let it all out which is why he wrote.

“Since a few weeks before Christmas.” he finally spills as he takes another drag of his cigarette and finishes it in a surprisingly fast pace only so he can pick another out and light it up, making Clarke furrow her eyebrows at him even more. 

“But it got worse just a bit before I was let out.”

“And you didn’t want to sleep with me because you’d wake me up?”

“That and I toss and turn a lot. I could hurt you.”

She sighs and drags her hand through her hair before she remembers it’s tired in a bun so she quickly undoes it and continues at her desperate attempts to keep herself together by tugging on the strands a bit too tight.

“It didn’t occur to you to tell anyone?”

He shrugs.

“I’m dealing with it.” that makes her bawl her hands into fists and clench her jaw.

“How? By smoking cigarettes and sleeping on a lumpy couch that makes the pain in your shoulder worse?”

“My arm’s fine.”

“Bullshit, I can see your hand trembling so bad!” she cuts him off unabashed by his behavior and he wants to smile again but realizes it would only make her more angry. 

“It will pass.” she waves her hand at him, completely dismissing his words as if all he says are empty excuses and not false hopes he told himself when he lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling late at night.

“What are they about?” she asks and he looks at her from under his eyebrows like a child peaking from the blankets, afraid to meet his mom’s angry look. Except Clarke could definitely be more scary than Aurora. “Your nightmares?”

“Trust me, princess…you don’t want to know.”

She stands up at that surprising him by walking to him. He instinctively pulls closer to the counter, digging his back in it so hard he almost forgets about the burnt out cigarette between his fingers and quickly puts it off before he burns himself.

“Yes, I do.” she insists and with the corner of his eye he sees her bare feet come so close to his, they’re almost touching. His nose breaths in her scent and he has to close his eyes because the intensity of having her so close is too overwhelming especially to his completely fucked up brain right now.

He’s realized that it’s not just the nightmares that have prevented him from sleeping in bed with Clarke. It was also the fact that he could once again have her wrapped around his body, feel her warmth, her closeness, her scent, her lips barely open snoring in his ear and the fact alone both thrilled him and scared him to death.

_Because he didn’t deserve to feel good and warm._

_He didn’t deserve the light._

“They’re about the guards beating me up to death while I lay curled up on the floor and do nothing.” he spills out, voice devoid of emotion “Or about kids jumping me from behind while I wipe the floor clean and kicking me while I struggle to fight back but do absolutely no harm to them.” he swallows hard and finally looks up with teary eyes that meet her own blue ocean of sadness that he had just caused.

“They’re about getting shot and dying in a cell in Murphy’s arms or watching you and mom get hurt by Anya or Octavia-” he chokes because those were the worst “Or Octavia bleeding out in the middle of the street.”

She reaches to touch him but again, forces herself to stop. She looks at him for permission but cups his cheek only when he gives her a nod.

Still, despite himself, he shivers at the touch and when she thinks she’s causing him too much pain, he grabs her wrist and forces her hand back on.

“No, don’t….this is good” he promises eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheek, tears that she wiped up with her thumb as she moved even closer.

He breathes in a shuddering breath before he makes himself look up.

“I’m bad with touching these days. Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” he promises and tries to give her a reassuring smile but all she does is simply move forward, so close that when he leans their foreheads are touching.

Her hand never leaves his cheek, instead her other hand comes up too and she’s successfully wiping his pain away on either side and he really wants to stop crying-he’s not sobbing,not really, there’s no noise coming from his throat, it’s just the tears pour out of him like a river flowing down a mountain and he can’t stop it. 

His shaky hand reaches to touch her face too but when he sees how ugly it’s trembling, he pulls it off and she must notice because she moves down to take it and squeeze it hard.

“Thank you.”she whispers then.

“For what? Sharing my demons?”

“Being honest with me.” she responds with ease “Trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Of course I trust you,princess.” he assures and finally gets a small smile out of her “This isn’t about it.”

“No, it’s about you drowning on your own, carrying the demons on your shoulders and dealing with them by yourself but I won’t let it keep happening.”

“Oh no?” he breathes out when her other hand slides down to his heart and upon finding it beating too fast it makes her purse her lips in that adorable angry Clarke way. “How will you stop it then?”

“By dragging you to bed.” she raises her voice just barely and before he knows it, she’s tugging his hand out the kitchen and when he opens his mouth to protest and tell her she’s insane, she shushes him and opens the door of his room only to shove him inside before he can protest.

He smiles at her stubbornness but instead all he feels is an unimaginable amount of guilt and fear.

_What if he hurt her?_

_What if he hit her by accident?_

_What if he woke up screaming even though it hasn’t ever been like that before and everyone heard him?_

_What if-_

He doesn’t get to finish that thought because she pulls him to the bed, throws the blankets off and simply pushes him into a sitting position.

“Clarke-”

“You’re not going back to that old lumpy couch.”

“I can…I may hurt you.”

“You won’t.” she says when she circles around the small bed and lies on the left end, tugging at his shirt like a child forcing him to come down and read her a story. He almost wants to laugh if he wasn’t feeling so afraid. 

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can, I’ll spoon you, keep you still.” he finally falls down on the bed upon her insistent pulling but remains on his back and stares at the ceiling only this time, he’s not alone and there’s not just darkness all around them.

“I…” he shakes his head and squeezes his eyes in embarrassment “We can’t…too much…too much touching. I don’t know if I-”

She goes quiet at that for a moment and he thinks that this is it, maybe he’s convinced her this was a bad idea, maybe he should just stand up and go back to his couch, turn the TV on again and pull out O’s notebook so he can write at the generic light and not waste any electricity on his stupid words.

Maybe, she can finally see him for who he was-someone who hurts others even in his sleep and she could feel so repulsed by him, she’d never come anywhere near him again and be safe.

“Turn around.” she says instead and he freezes for a moment. “Come on,roll over so you’re facing me.” she reaches to take his other arm and pull at him. 

He quickly obliges and a moment later he’s facing her-they’re looking at each other and she smiles at him while he’s feeling too embarrassed of himself that his first instinct was to bury half his face (his bruised face) in the pillow. 

“Can I come just a bit closer?” she asks and when he nods, she scoots so that their knees are touching, then she reaches out her hand between them but doesn’t push him, instead she waits for him to decide when he wants to take it. He doesn’t move right away, he’s too afraid the feeling of her in bed will be too much and make him freak out and run.

He doesn’t want to run.

This feels good, warm and when he closes his eyes this time he doesn’t feel the tears spilling over his cheeks anymore.

“I don’t deserve that.” he mumbles quietly before he meets her blue ocean again only to find her pursing her lips at his statement even if just a moment before her expression softens again probably after realizing his vulnerability and the honesty in the way he said that.

“Who determines what is that we deserve?” she asks instead and he’s taken aback by the fact that she’s not simply reassuring but instead questioning “Who is to say what our heart deserves to feel and what it doesn’t?” she carefully reaches over his face again and when he lets her cup his cheek once more, she smiles “My father would say my mom doesn’t deserve us to forgive her but I do. The drunk driver who caused Well’s accident definitely doesn’t deserve my forgiveness but he gets it even if he doesn’t even know it.”

“Those are all bad people who did all the wrong things, Clarke.” he whispers back when her index finger starts connecting his freckles in messy figures that remind him of stars. “Like me.” he furrows his eyebrows “How can you look at us and see light instead of darkness? How can you meet me eyes and not see everything that is wrong about me in there?”

“Because you’re not a bad person.” she says simply.

“But I am. I stole from people. I got money for breaking in, taking what’s theirs and tearing it up into parts.”

“So you can bring enough food to the table for your mom. So you don’t get the electricity cut off and freeze to death. So you can buy yourselves clothes and basic necessities.” she insists 

“That doesn’t excuse any of it.” he utters through gritted teeth.

“People aren’t bad, Bellamy. Circumstances force them into the darkness they have inside but there’s always light as well.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Of course you don’t.” she smiles knowingly “I don’t think you ever did.All the things you see in yourself are the crooked awful flaws that you don’t really possess. You are a good son, you are a good brother and you are a good friend.” she says when her finger ends up on his nose makes a line up and down until it moves to his forehead where she switches to her thumb. 

Her movements calm him down and he relaxes at her touch but gently shakes his head in disagreement with her words.

“So all those people breaking into houses in your neighborhood, hurting others and taking from them are also, by your logic, deep inside good?”

“They are doing it for a reason.”

“They’re doing it because they are mean and greedy. I was too and if I was just a bit older when I broke into your house, I could’ve hurt you and your father worse than I had.”

“I don’t think so.” she stubbornly continues and he chuckles, his breath fanning her face, making her even more drunk on him, itching to curl up closer, rest her head over his heart and make sure it is fine.

“What makes me different from them?” he asks and this time he reaches out to touch her face, his thumb desperate to ease the crease between her brows and move down to cup her cheek. He never imagined they’d ever be this soft in bed together. “The truth is, nothing, princess. The reality of this is that if I hadn’t been caught at the Lightbournes, a few years down the road, I’d probably be them.”

“So you’re saying I’m too naive to believe there’s good in you?” she says grumpily pulling her hand away as if in a way to punish him for being so hard at himself. His face falters when he can no longer feel her fingers on his face but he tells himself it’s what he deserves.

“No.” he says simply “I don’t really have the right to call you anything. You are who you are and we come from different worlds and _we keep living in different_ words, so” he shrugs “we have our believes.”

She sighs tiredly and nuzzles closer to him on instinct for a moment completely forgetting that she should maybe ask first. But when he doesn’t flinch and instead he moves his body a bit closer she smiles and looks up at him again.

The dark circles under his eyes send a shiver down her spine, his pale face makes her breath hitch but he still gives her a light smile when their foreheads touch. 

“How long has it been since you actually slept?” she asks with a whisper and he closes his eyes afraid to meet hers “I mean a good solid eight hour sleep?”

“Since before Octavia was born?” he tries to joke but she won’t have it and she lets him know by reaching to slap his arm in a mild scolding manner.

“It’s fine, princess. It will pass.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Noting lasts forever. I just need to get used to the way things are on the outside and everything will work out.”

“Bellamy, you can’t just bury all those things and keep marching on. That’s not how you deal with PTSD.” his eyes snap open at her words and he moves his head back.

“I don’t have that.”

“Yes, you do.” he shakes his head stubbornly and she sighs deciding to leave that fight for another day.

When he sees she won’t keep prodding him, he relaxes into the bed and she takes a moment just observing him, seeing how even though he’s trying to rest, his body seems tense as if he was wired with electricity which would shock him with the memory of a violent guard or an angry kid hitting him at any point.

His hands were wrapped up in each other and both of them shook, not just his bad one.

His breathing, though, that was what sounded the worse-it was like listening to a freight train-there was a deep rattle in his lungs and it came out fast and hard but the air he was actually pulling in wasn’t enough which is why his body struggled for more. She could only imagine the strain that put on his heart.

“When I was gone-” he asks after a moment, breaking her up from her thoughts “Did you…did you have moments like the one tonight? All of you together, having fun?”

He opens his eyes to look in hers searching for a truthful answer which she has every intention of giving him.

“Yes. Not every day but…sometimes we’d try to make cookies or your mom would show me and O how to make her special pasta or…well when the first snow came O and I built a snow man in the backyard while your mom watched us from the back porch.”

Listening to her talk fills his eyes with tears once again and the aching of his heart, that deep bone tiring sadness, pulls at him. He imagines it all-the three of them having fun, his little sister squirming when Clarke pushes her in the snow,their mom scolding her no to throw a snow ball at Clarke but ends up almost being hit by one herself before she joins them in for a second.

“Bellamy?”

“It’s okay.” he promises when he feels his body shaking violently again like before. He forces it to calm down “So you were happy? They were happy?” he asks voice breaking but desperate to know.

Clarke scoots closer to him and this time he actually whimpers when she wraps an arm over his waist and pulls him closer to her but he doesn’t fight her or at least he tries not to. Not everything his body did depended on what he wanted, he couldn’t control everything. 

“Well…not all the time but there were good moments like this, yes.” he nods and smiles sadly “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s nothing. I just needed to know.”

“Why?”

“No reason.” he whispers back and finally he relaxes into her hug enough to be able to raise his hand and put it on her neck, drawing her head to his chest. When she easily nestles in the crook of his neck he feels her nose bury into his shoulder and breathe him in. 

It fills his heart with joy even if just for a moment.

“Do you think we were better off without you here?” she asks finally having it figured out and he sighs but just holds her closer, refusing to let her meet his eyes. She’s stubborn, though, his Clarke and she untangles herself from his shaky limbs taking his chin in her bony fingers and forcing his head down. 

“Bellamy Blake, please tell me this isn’t what you meant?”

He chuckles at her angry face-she was actually adorable when she was pouting like this and he can’t help the itch in his heart that commands him to reach and tuck a strand of hair from her face, then cup her cheek and brush her forehead where some sweat had gathered.

He feels so soft and good there in her arms, one of which is still tightly wrapped around his waist so he doesn’t think twice when everything in him screams to move down and let his lips graze her forehead.

She stiffens under his touch probably as surprised by it as he was and his heart skips a few beats before he dares meet her eyes again.

When she melts into him again he exhales. So she didn’t totally just hate this and when her hand cups his cheek and her thumb rubs under his eyes she smiles wickedly.

“That’s a bad way to distract me, Blake.”

He chuckles and moves down to kiss it again, this time properly, lingering on the spot just near her hair a bit too longer than necessary.

Her breath hitches under him and her hand slides under the hem of his shirt rubbing her soothing fingers over the skin there, helping him relax further into her. 

“That alright?”

“Yeah.” he promises though he’s still a little tense but he melts further and further into her.

“You’re really cold.” she mumbles when she buries her nose in the crook of his neck and he smiles when he feels her breath on his skin.

“I’m always like that now.” he whispers back “They often cut off the electricity there at night.” she moves up her big blue eyes again meeting his brown ocean of sadness “I guess it crept up on me.”

“That and also-” her hear moves from his back to his chest, covering his now finally slowly beating heart.

“Yeah, that sucker’s not helping the blood circulation either.” he attempts a light joke but she just huffs as if annoyed at his stupidity and pulls him closer again.

“What did you do?”

“Hmm?”

“When you couldn’t sleep all those nights, what did you do?”

“Mostly wrote.” he explains simply “Helps me take things off my mind.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh, God no. It’s really bad.”

“You’ll never say it’s good.” she groans frustrated at his behavior which makes him chuckle.

“That’s not true.”

“Do you know yourself?” he smiles and rubs his nose against hers which apparently makes her giddy because she squirms in his embrace as if he had tickled her. 

Which he figured out he could actually do, so he takes his turn, sliding his hand under her shirt and grazing her ribs.

She must’ve been about to start falling because she doesn’t feel him sneak in there so when he does and his cold hands scare her at his finger’s movement she squirms and has to stifle her screams by burying her face in his chest.

He laughs quietly at her and she struggles to swat his hand away.

“I found your weakness, princess.” he teases and keeps trying to tickle her a bit more apparently successful because she rolls on her back, arching it while throwing her head back and he quickly hovers over her, expertly sliding both hands under and continuing his torture.

“Bellamy- God, no…stop! Stop!” she begs, hitting his chest lightly as he watches her face go red from the strain of keeping herself quiet “We’ll wake your mom!”

“That’d be your fault, princess.”

“Stop! Oh, God, why do, you little-, Bellamy I swear to god!” she squirms, tossing left and right until she finally gets a hold of his shoulders and tries to push him off.

He winces when she presses a bit too hard on his bad one and plays it perfectly when she thinks she caused him more pain than she actually had. His hands stop their hard work and he bites his lip which of course immediately makes her worry.

“You okay?”

He takes a moment too long, just to see her sweat before he lets his fingers back into action and tickles her even harder. She once again squirms under him.

“You are so mean!” she exhales in between heavy breaths “Seriously, stop it, I don’t know if I can-oh, shit, come on, Bellamy!” he chuckles once more but upon seeing how much her teasing had gotten the blush in her cheeks that he loves so much and the light back into her eyes, he stops-he had succeeded in relieving the pain he had caused her but his hands never actually move away from their place even if they’re no longer trying to tickle her.

Instead they go further up, then down, feeling her sides until he reaches to her bra. Her shirt’s all wrinkled up now, revealing her stomach and ribs, showing him just a preview of her red lacy bra that makes his mouth water. 

They stare in each other’s eyes for a long while before he moves his head down near her belly and nuzzles his nose against it.

“Bellamy-” her breathing’s heavy once more but for a whole different reason and he feels her back arch with every little movement that he makes against her.

He wants to kiss her there-he wants to taste every part of her body and for a brief moment he does actually brush his lips on the place just beneath her bra but when her hands move to bury themselves in his hair and tug on his short curls, he remembers himself.

He couldn’t do that.

He shouldn’t be doing that.

God, how was he ever that stupid to even let it get here. He raises himself up on his elbows and as much as his shoulder hurts lingers there for a moment too long because he needs a second to compose himself.

“Bellamy?” she asks confused and he can’t meet her eyes so he rolls off to his side again with eyes closed and just tries to calm his breathing down. “Bell, what’s wrong?” she prods reaching to take his shoulder and for the first time this evening he doesn’t actually shiver when he feels her fingers.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers and braves looking at her after all, knowing that she deserves it “I got carried away.”

“No, you didn’t.” her hand moves up to cup his cheek once more and she scoots closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He huffs and bows his head down but she picks his chin and forces it up as he watches her move her other arm up to prop her head so they’re at one level.

“What just changed?” she asks trying to decipher what was going on in his head.

“You know what.”

“I don’t.”

“Clarke, please, don’t make me say it.” he begs and his voice comes out a bit too strained than he’d like it to be, a little bit too desperate.

“I want to hear the grand logic behind your stupid actions, Blake, so please go ahead.” she huffs off and his shoulders sag at her words, making him shake his head just barely trying to let her know he won’t do that, he won’t go there. “What is it that got in your head? That you’re too bad for me? That you are this monster who doesn’t deserve love? That you can’t be with anyone because you went to juvie for a stupid crime you didn’t even truly commit?”

“Because I’m goddamn broken, Clarke.” he breaks at that, feels the trembles return and she must see it too because it makes her eyes widen as if she truly didn’t expect him to speak anything up “Because I’m sick and I don’t mean just my heart, I’m rotten, Clarke, I’m goddamn fucked up on the inside do you understand? **_There’s not a part of me there that’s not broken._** ”

She swallows hard but keeps her hand on his cheek, digging her nails in his cheek just with a bit more force as if to ground him.

“Okay. And?”

“What do you mean and? This is it! You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

“Why not?” she asks simply again and he looks at her utterly confused.

“I just told you.”

“That’s not an explanation. You’re broken so what? Does that make you unlovable? Do you think it can stop me or anyone else from loving you?”

“You don’t want to love me, princess, trust me.”

“What if I already do?” she asks daringly.

“You can’t.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Bellamy Blake.”

“Stop being so goddamn, stubborn!” he huffs desperate to make her understand.

“I’m not being stubborn. I just see what you’re trying to do and calling you out on your bullshit. You won’t push me away. No matter what you say.”

“Clarke-”

“No, Bellamy. I don’t give a damn okay?” she raises herself on her elbow and he rolls on his back so that she’s looking over him now and it makes him feel like it’s morning and he’s looking at the sun. “I don’t care if you’re rotten on the inside, if you’re bad, if you’re broken or sick in any way there is for you to be sick-mentally or physically. I don’t.”

“Why not?” is his turn to ask and she smiles when she’s the one to wrap herself around his body, throwing her leg over his and leaning over him, cupping his cheeks and pressing her forehead to his.

“Because I fell in love with you,you idiot.”

He smiles, lets himself once again melt into her, wraps his arms around her waist and despite the fact that every fiber of his being is telling him to stop, to protect her, to keep her safe from his own self, he wants to feel close to her. Wants to always feel her breath fanning his face, her hands roaming over his ribs or arms, or even be buried in his hair, wants her lips on his. God he wants that so much and he knows he’s done nothing to deserve it.

When he doesn’t say anything right away, simply because he’s too stunned to do so, she pulls away from him for a second and when he meets her eyes he sees confusion and sadness.

“Unless you don’t feel the same way which is totally-”

And then he does what he’s been craving to all those months he’s spend in juvie and even before that. He presses his lips to hers and at first she seems to be surprised because it takes her a second to kiss him back but when she does and he feels like this sudden warmth spreads through his entire body. His bones ease out under him like he’s made of clay and though he’s raised himself on his elbows just to reach her, he easily falls into the pillow once more, letting her take over, her body wrapped around his while his hands move to her back. 

“I feel the same way” he whispers when she pulls away so they could take their breath and she chuckles rubbing her nose against his and then moving down to nuzzle at his shoulder again, something she apparently loved doing.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” he says with a smile when he runs his fingers through her hair and pulls the blanket up her shoulders when he feels her get colder. “Are you sure, though?”

“I am if you are.”

“My life’s a really big mess right now, princess.”

“That’s alright. We don’t have to rush anything.” she promises when she turns her head so that her nose was touching his neck, eyes already drooping and he almost gets ticklish himself when he feels her lips graze the sensitive spot behind his ear “I know how much you’re dealing with so we can just…”

“Spend time together?” he suggest and she nods but when he leans down to take his lips into hers again he adds “And maybe a little bit of that?”

“I think it’s a fair deal.” she says with a soft smile and he feels her body slump harder against his tired bones, warming them up and though it made it a tad harder to breathe and intensified the pain in his arm, he’d never want her to move. 

He doesn’t know how someone like her with all the light and goodness inside her can ever see anything in him and not just that but recognize all the broken parts of his soul, find him tossing and crying after a nightmare or shaking with pain or struggling to breathe and yet never feel repulsed by him in the way that he was with himself.

He has no idea whatsoever.

But he’s grateful.

And he feels lucky for the first time in his life.

“You think you’ll sleep?” she asks sluggishly after a moment when her hand moves over his heart again as if trying to feel how he’s doing without asking him, knowing he’ll probably lie to her. 

He hmms in response because he feels so soft and good for the first time in forever and he doesn’t care if he gets even ten minutes of rest if he can spend the rest of the night watching her like this slumped against his chest, dozing off, mouth already half opened ready to drool on his washed out blue shirt.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

He kisses the top of her head and wraps his arms tighter around her. 

“It’s okay, I have the day off tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can do something…go to the diner with the onion rings?” he voice gets weaker by the minute and he keeps pressing gentle kisses wherever he can, hoping to help her fall faster and stop worrying over him.

“I’d like that a lot. I’ve been dreaming of those for a while now.”

“I’ll want the…chocolate…milkshake..”she slurs the words and he laughs at her sluggishness as he watches her eyes finally close off and nuzzles his nose against her one last time before she completely fades.

He stays there staring at the ceiling barely lit by the bedside lamp she had turned on probably when she came out looking for him. His chest, though baring the weight of her body feels light and he forgets his arm hurts or that his back was a little tense.

His heart beats slowly in his chest now, no longer bearing the signs of the nightmares but he doesn’t want to risk falling asleep and letting it go through the terror of another one.

The truth was that as much as this was hurting him mentally, it was also putting a lot of strain on his heart and normally, it wouldn’t calm down till early in the morning but tonight, with Clarke’s help, he had gotten it to rest faster but that also meant he was now feeling a lot more tired, the pain of it all taking it’s toll on his body and he felt cold, shivering even, still struggling to pull his breath and as the time passed and she slept over him, he would feel a sharp pain in his chest ever so often.

It’d come and go as a wave, stabbing him out of nowhere and then ebbing away so fast he couldn’t even register his own fear.

But it was there. And it was the same one his mom often told him about even when he was a child and didn’t know he was sick again, it was the same one he experienced during the hearing and then many times after in jail.

But he ignored it as best as he could, deciding to just accept it like he did with everything else inside him that was fucked up-his arm, his head, his soul. He looked at them, felt disgusted, then desperate, then extremely sad and then he forced himself to stand up in the morning and keep going.

Because there were more important things than him or his pain or his crooked in every way heart.

And he was reminded of it when the first winter sun rays made their way through the small window on his right and grazed Clarke’s face making him feel warm and giddy and good all of a sudden.

Though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he still leans down to brush his lips against hers as she starts waking up and for a second too long, he indulges himself in the feeling of being loved.


	12. I don't know this man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all of those who are still reading this story!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

He doesn’t go to sleep, he just can’t but he does spend the time looking at her and listening to her steady breathing and her strong heart that’s nothing like his.

Every now and then when she shivers from the cold, he pulls the blanket up higher since she had the tendency to kick her feet in her sleep and pulled it down. It’d make him smile, how much she really looked like a teenager in those moments, every trace of her serious and always considerate of every little detail expression completely gone.

Her eyebrows weren’t furrowed, her lips weren’t pursed, she didn’t have her arms crossed over her chest ready to fight him.

She was just Clarke Griffin-a rich princess from Sanctum who he’d judged too fast based on her wealth even when she showed him nothing but her kindness.

He knew better now, he thought as he moved his hands up and down her back to warm her up and felt her bury her head closer to his chest, nuzzling at him and sighing every now and then in her sleep.

God, she was the most adorable.

But he knew he had to get up at some point. He was getting restless though all he felt was the heaviness of his bones. It was hard to describe-how tired he was but also how impossible to get any kind of sleep or rest.

Carefully, he untangled himself but not before he was sure that the blankets were tightly tucked around her and on his way out he made sure the heater’s turned on so that she wouldn’t get cold without him.

The sun was just about to rise when he made it to the kitchen and he knew his mom would soon be up too, unless she felt really bad in which case she’d sleep in, but he didn’t want to take any chances so he smoked a cigarette on the back porch before he got his hands busy with breakfast.

He had been so wrapped in his work near the stove that he hadn’t heard her come in.

“You’re up early again.” his mom states and when he turns around, spatula in hand his breath catches in his throat. 

She’s really pale, her face white as the snow in the front yard and she was hunched over a bit as she leaned on the wall and then the chair for support. He rushed in to help her settle down.

“Mom, why aren’t you asleep?” he scolds as if she was the child and not him and reaches for a blanket left behind from last night to wrap around her freezing shoulders.

“I didn’t feel like lying down anymore.” she says waving her hand but giving him a fond look “You making pancakes?”

“Waffles actually.” he hovers a bit more not really willing to leave her there but she rests her back on the chair and points at the pan, reminding him to get back before something burns “I think we should go to Jackson again. You’re not fine.” he comments as he takes out another batch of waffles and puts it in a plate which he carries to her.

She doesn’t seem like she wants to eat but he will scold her until she does because she really needed it with all the strong medicine she was taking.

Last time Jackson checked up on her was when she insisted he went to the hospital after he got out a few days ago and though he had been relieved that the doctor never suspected he had cut his own medicine intake in half since he poured most of it in her bottles, he was really worried that she wasn’t doing okay.

Jackson said it’s another bad bout but that they should maybe start thinking about surgery, getting her an ICD or try some new drugs if she doesn’t get better. 

His mom had of course ignored that part, saying she just needs some time but upon Bellamy’s scrutinizing glare promised she’d come again if it gets worse or if she doesn’t feel any better at all. 

“It’ll be okay.” she promises and picks up her fork when he doesn’t move away from the table immediately. When he’s sure she’s eating he goes back to the stove and keeps on his work so Clarke and O can get some of those as well.

“You know, Bellamy…we never really talked about this.” he doesn’t turn around at that but throws her a look over his shoulder.

“About what?”

“My…well our disease.” he squeezes his eyes shut wanting to say that there’s nothing really to talk about but refusing to start a fight with his mom, not in the state she was in right now.

“When Jackson did all the tests in the hospital you never asked him any questions…you never asked me either-”

“Mom-” he sighs and leans on the counter but still refuses to turn around and meet her eyes, knowing he’ll find nothing but worry and sadness, something he was sick of causing them. 

“I’m afraid you’re just ignoring it and marching on and that’s no way to deal with it. You need to learn more about this, know how to protect yourself, what you can allow your body to do and what you should keep away from, when you should rest, what food you should eat.”

“You think I don’t care about it? That I never educated myself on the subject?” he huffs out a sarcastic laugh and finally turns around, crossing his arms over his chest as she gives him a quizzical look, obviously not really getting what he’s talking about. 

“When I was thirteen I came home from school and found you passed out here in the kitchen, do you remember that?” he asks and she gives him a quiet nod before he keeps going “I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do. O was just a kid and still at day care and I was all alone so I called Mr. Jenkins, the neighbor. Back then I didn’t know I shouldn’t take you to the hospital because we couldn’t pay for any of it or more like…” he laughs sadly “I knew but I didn’t think about it because I was panicked and all I wanted to do was help you. So I made him take us to the ER. On the way there you woke up for just a moment and you couldn’t recognize me.”

“Bellamy-”

“You were so pale, shaking, barely breathing, I thought you would die.” he continues with a voice suggesting that this is his time to speak and she should let him so she rests her back on the chair and listens to him with glistening eyes “When the doctor came out to talk to me later on he said so many things I couldn’t understand. I guess…I never really knew you were that bad or what this was. You’ve always complained your chest hurts and you have been sleepy or slow some days but I just thought it is because you worked so hard.”

Aurora swallows hard and closes her eyes briefly, reaching to grip the table with her hand as if to steady herself.

“So when he started saying words I couldn’t make sense of I almost started crying. He saw me panic and made me sit down so I asked him questions, even made him write down some words. Then he told me you’d be asleep for a few hours so you know what I did?”

“No.” she whispers trying to keep her voice steady.

“I ran to the library, basically rushed in and got to the first available computer, so I can search all there is about it, what it does, how it can affect you, if it’s treatable.” he shakes his head at that “The prognosis. All those things you just mentioned-what one should do or eat.” he turns around again paying attention to the waffles before he takes out another one and fills in a second plate for his sister and Clarke. He’s just about done with it but his hands tremble worse than before and he feels his heart beat faster again.

“When my eyes read the words ‘genetic heart disease’ and ‘fifty percent chance’ I prayed it wasn’t Octavia.” he closes his eyes briefly reliving the moment “I didn’t care about anything else, I just couldn’t bear the thought of her being sick.”

“Bellamy, I never wanted to do this to you.” Aurora says simply “I never meant to hurt you, scare you or cause you pain. When I was a kid and my father died suddenly we didn’t even know he had a bad heart.”

“I know.” he says softly now, feeling bad for telling her all this, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have, that it was too much all at once. “You found out when you gave birth to me.” 

“That’s not really true, actually.” he raises and eyebrow and moves to sit down next to her. “I found out a month before you were due to come. The entire pregnancy I felt really…weak, slow, I had moments I couldn’t get out of bed and your dad he…” she swallowed hard, she’s rarely talked about his father because it made her really sad “He was so worried about me.”

“He was?”

“God, he was hovering over me all the time, wouldn’t want to let me out of his sight.” she smiles and when the tears spill she brushes them away really fast as if they were never there, refusing to acknowledge her pain. 

“I was alone when I went to the doctor that time and it was a different one, someone filling in for mine. They didn’t like the way my heart sounded and my blood pressure was really low so she ordered additional test and when they came back they told me.”

He reaches out to cover his hand with hers and she rubs her thumb over his bruised knuckles.

“She said it could be very dangerous for me to give birth but I didn’t care. All that mattered was you. I wanted you to live, to have a good life-” her voice breaks at that and her head hangs low “And I couldn’t give you that.” 

She’s told him before when he had asked about his dad that they’ve been trying really hard to have a baby for over a year before she finally got pregnant and when she did, he literally jumped around the house all night long, even carried her to bed and made her promise she won’t move for the next nine months.

Octavia, he knew…she wasn’t planned. She came when Aurora was dating this guy back when Bellamy was a kid. He was mean and hit her and him sometimes but he didn’t stay for more than a few months, which Bellamy had been glad for.

When Aurora realized she was pregnant and tried to explain to then seven year old Bellamy that he has a sister coming his way, he had been ecstatic.

And then he made the promise to always protect her and keep her safe.

He’s never stopped doing it. 

“No, that’s not true.” he pulls his chair closer and takes both her hands in his “It’s not true, mom.”

“We live…”she moves her head around the empty dark kitchen “like this but the fact that I also gave you my disease-”

“Mom, don’t, please. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” she says stubbornly “I never wanted you to have to feel like this. To get this pain, to be helpless. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I’m not. I promise.” he reaches to hug her now. She wraps her bony arms around his back and holds him close for a moment too long. Her slow beating heart matching his, making him pull her even closer to his chest as if he could somehow will it to be better. “Whatever happened to me, I did it myself.” he says and she pulls away, cupping his cheek and forcing him to meet her eyes.

“That’s not true.” he doesn’t let her finish, doesn’t want to fight her anymore, feeling like this was already enough of an emotional turmoil for both of them, so he just stands up and moves back to the counter to add some honey and jam to Clarke and O’s waffles and putting in the kettle to brew his mom some tea. 

“You’re taking your medication, right?” she asks carefully after a moment and he nods before he remembers she’s facing his back and makes himself respond.

“I am.”

“And you feel fine?”

“I do, I promise.” thankfully Jackson hadn’t noticed anything that much different with his condition and when it came to his shoulder, much to Bellamy’s relief, he said it’s healing slower than he’d like but that it’s definitely better so he was fast to turn him down on physical therapy and promised not to strain himself too much.

His mom had been happy with the doctor’s words but she still observed him carefully, ever since that time at the hearing when he almost passed out, as if waiting for him to break and making sure she caught him before he got worse.

“Are you sleeping alright? I woke up the other night and saw the kitchen light was on.”

“I was just hungry.” he lies with ease and she’s about to argue when his sister makes her way in, already way too enthusiastic for a seven am on a Saturday.

She exclaims joyfully at the waffles and chatters about what she’ll do with her aunt who was taking her again for the weekend. Octavia seemed to be loving spending time with her and when she goes on to get ready, Bellamy sits down on the table again and carefully picks at his food, not actually feeling hungry.

“I know that she…likes being with aunt Leah but…she seems-”

“Different. I know.” Aurora sighs still looking at the door after his sister disappeared to their room. “She likes it there. I think she can realize how different things are even in Hydra. Your aunt spoiling her doesn’t help.”

“Has she been giving you trouble?” he asks carefully and she looks down at her fingers picking on a lose thread from the blanket. 

“I think she just wants more.” he raises an eyebrow at that crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head.

They’ve always made sure that Octavia had everything even if he or his mom didn’t.

It was their way of spoiling, he guesses, but in their case that meant buying her a lollipop when they were lacking money or letting her sleep in one bed with him instead of with her mom and not…buying her nice clothes or toys like his aunt did.

All this time he had been worried that Clarke might be a bad influence on his sister but she never really over stepped.

She brought some old toys of hers as well as a few dresses but she always asked beforehead if that’s okay and she made sure they knew it wasn’t out of pity but because she’d actually throw those things away when O could play with them.

Now his sister had abandoned all dolls Clarke had bought and instead played with the Barbie aunt Leah gave her or the phone she bought her. Some nights she’d refuse to eat the food they put on the table because it was something simple like mac and cheese or some bacon and mashed potatoes and she wanted pasta or pizza or maybe scallops which he himself had never even tasted.

“And I can’t give it to her.”

“No, she just needs to be reminded where we come from and that this is nothing to be ashamed of.” his mom reaches to cup his cheek and fondly rub her thumb over the dark circles under his eyes which is the first time she actually notices them.

He notices the worry in her eyes but is saved by Clarke finally entering the kitchen in her usual sleepy glory and he can’t help but beam at her.

His mom must notice because she smiles but says nothing yet when his and Clarke’s eyes meet, they understand each other perfectly without words.

She squeezes his shoulder gently in understanding-they weren’t ready yet to tell about whatever was really going between them, not until they figure it out and not while they promised they’re going to take it slowly. 

Later when they’re all on the table and Clarke’s stuffing her face with his waffles,praising him for his cooking skills and making his mom and him laugh at her mumbling, she speaks up.

“We still on for today?”

“I don’t know…” he carefully throws a look at his mom who’s still pale and very tired and Clarke once again understands him with just a look “Maybe we can stick around.”

“What did you want to do?”

“Nothing, mom.”

“Bellamy, go out, have fun, don’t worry about me.” 

“But-”

“Your sister’s going to be picked up in fifteen minutes and I’ll probably just go back to bed. There’s no reason for you to waste a good day, okay?”

“I just think it’s best-” she reaches to cup his cheek again and smiles fondly at him.

“You came out of juvie barely a week ago and you started working right away. You haven’t been out and you’ve spend all your time with me or your sister, worrying about us and making sure we’re okay.”

Bellamy lets out a tired huff and still opens his mouth to fight but she’s faster.

“Clarke, will you help me out here?”

“Oh yeah.” she stands up cleaning her mouth with her sleeve like the badass that she is and slaps his back lightly “Blake, we’re going out.”

He knows he’s not going to get away with it so his shoulder sag and though he’s really tired, he won’t be able to convince Clarke that they should stay home. He’s afraid that he might pass out.

It happened in juvie when he hasn’t slept in days that he would get so tired it’d get black before his eyes and he’d have to force himself to stay awake before he got to his cell and fell the moment he hit the bed.

“Fine, fine.” he agrees throwing his hands in the air and seeing his mom smile when he finally relents. He’d do anything just to witness the joy on her face more often even if it meant going out when he really didn’t have the strength to.

But he couldn’t let them know that. He was strong enough to do this, he just had to get some more coffee and he’ll be all fine.

“Good, I’ll shower and then we’re leaving.” Clarke announces but when Aurora tries to stand and head to the bedroom on her own, she sways so violently on her feet that both Bellamy and Clarke reach out to steady her, grabbing each of her hands.

She tilts in her son’s direction as if looking for a safe haven and when she realizes she’s putting most of her weight on him, she tries to stand her own ground and not let him worry but he’s faster.

He sees she’s in no condition to walk on her own and his heart skips a beat when he realizes how weak she actually is, so he swipes her up in his arms and carries her to the bedroom, Clarke following swiftly by to open the door for him and pull the blankets away. 

He wants to tell her he can feel she’s lost weight, she’s so light in his arms, as if he was carrying Octavia back to bed and not her. It makes him clench his jaw with the realization that this is not just because of her disease but probably also because of him.

She must’ve worried a lot when he was away in juvie and when she did, she had the tendency not to eat or sleep at all, yet another thing he inherited from her.

“My strong boy.” she whispers when she leans her head on his chest just over his own fucked up heart. “Carrying me as if I weight nothing.”

“You do weight nothing.” he says worry peppering his voice as he carefully places her on the bed and adjusts the pillows behind her. Clarke hovers nervously on the other side but he throws her a look that he’s got this when he helps Aurora take a few sips of water and tucks her in.

“We’re going to Jackson on Monday.” he states and when she opens her mouth to argue he cuts her off “That wasn’t a suggestion, mom.”

She sighs and reaches to cup his cheek with a fond smile on her face.

“You forget I’m still the mother and you’re the child, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, well mothers need taking care of too.” he says sternly but leans into her touch “Especially when they are too stubborn for their own good and never listen to anyone.”

“I think you just described yourself.” Clarke chimes in and both of them turn to give her a curious look but in a second Aurora laughs quietly and he turns to look at her again.

“I think your princess is quite right.”

“I don’t think we should go out.” he tries fighting them on it again but his mom’s hand drops to his and squeezes it in a hard and a little bit painful manner suggesting he’s not getting away from this one.

“Yes, you are.” he sighs, letting his head fall a little and when he feels her fingers brushing a few of his curls away he simply stays as he is, letting her do it because he’s been craving his mom’s love for months and though he knew he didn’t deserve it, his heart’s desire was stronger than the logic in his head.

“Clarke, help him shave that thing off when you’re back okay?” she huffs as if annoyed when she touches his beard which he’s let grown since before he left juvie “He looks like a caveman.”

“Thanks,mom.”

“You’re not welcome.”

“I can shave myself.”

“You could but then I’ve seen your hand tremble and I also don’t trust you to take care of it on your own.”

“I’ll make sure the world gets to marvel at his baby face again.” Clarke jokes and comes by his side rubbing his shoulder in a loving manner that sends warmth through his body. Aurora gives them a look again, the same like the one before at the table but says nothing.

“Go shower, princess.” he reminds her and she huffs but leaves because if she doesn’t, they’d never make it outside.

He helps his mom adjust the pillows again and brings in the heater from his room to keep her warm despite her protests. When he’s huffing and puffing with the pills on the night stand and giving her a hand with taking them, she grabs his wrist and pulls him down again.

“You smell like cigarettes.” her voice is stone cold and he freezes staring down at his broken shoes in shame. “Please tell me you’re not smoking.”

He closes his eyes shut and tries to keep his voice steady, deciding that he won’t hide anything from her anymore.

“That’d be a lie.”

For a moment she’s quiet and he can’t bear to open his eyes and witness the disappointment there so he just keeps looking down at their hands still holding each other.

“Bellamy, this is bad for you.” she says sternly and tugs at his hand forcing him to look at her but he refuses to, keeping his head low in shame “You need to stop. Your heart can’t take that.”

“I’m fine.” he huffs annoyed and when he dares a glance at her face he sees her eyebrows furrowing and her lips pursed in anger. “It was just once.”

“Bullshit, all your clothes smell.”

“Mom-”

“Why are you doing it?”

Because I can’t sleep, he wants to bite back.

Because every cell in my body feels like it wants to either make me pass out or jump and hit something.

Because I’m angry, because I’ve gotten the shit beaten out of me for two months and either I couldn’t do nothing or I did but it wasn’t enough because as with everything in my life, no matter what I do, it never truly is.

_Because I’m sad and it hurts._

_It hurts deep inside._

_Everything hurts._

And I don’t mean my heart.

_It hurts, mom and I just want it to stop._

But he doesn’t say that.

Instead he smiles and rubs his thumb over her hand.

“I’ll stop, I promise.” her face softens at that “It was stupid, you’re right.”

She exhales and gives him a quiet nod and when they hear Clarke calling him from the living room, saying she’s just about ready he smiles and tries to stand up and follow his princess, but his mom once again tugs his hand and pushes him down.

“Clarke and you-” her voice is barely a whisper now and he doesn’t know if it’s because she feels weak or because she doesn’t want Clarke to hear them “I just want you to know that I’m happy.”

“Mom, we’re…we haven’t really figured it out.”

“But you like her, don’t you?”she prods and he smiles at that which makes her face beam.

“It’s more than just like.”

“Good.” she squeezes his hand “She’s good for you.”

“But am I good for her?” she gives him a confused look, her head titling to the side and he gives her a shrug.

“Of course you’re-” she says but after a moment too long and his heart clenches at that.

Maybe she too, can see that he’s not the right guy for her, maybe she as a mom knows that if she was Clarke’s parent, she wouldn’t want him anywhere near her girl.

Yes Clarke was great for him-she was kind and smart and she kicked his ass but what did he do for her? How was he there in any way for her? What did he help her with?

The answer was nothing.

“It’s okay, this doesn’t matter now. We’re still kind of…” he gestures around but he can’t get rid of the smile on his face.

“I understand. Take your time.” Aurora says softly “I won’t say a thing.” he nods at that and she pulls him in to kiss his cheek one last time before she lets him go “And Bellamy?”

He turns around when he’s just about at the door.

“Listen to her.”

That makes him chuckle but he agrees, or at least he does so in front of his mom but when he follows Clarke out of the house she makes it clear that he doesn’t really have a choice in what they do.

They had to take the bus as she had left her car back at home and the Blakes never owned one, but he loved using public transportation and apparently so did Clarke. 

She was a lot like a child on a train for the first time and though of course she had used the bus before, she still went into it like she was experiencing the best thing in the world and her smile, her hair shining like the sun and her excited face made his heart flutter.

Once they were seated at the back of the bus, he finally got a moment to lean down and kiss her. Carefully nuzzling his nose in the place between her ear and her neck and pecking her cheek. She squirms in his arms for a moment, laughs and if he could breathe in that sound he was pretty sure it may heal every broken part inside him but then again he wasn’t sure he’d deserve that.

She cups his cheek and moves his head so she’s kissing his lips and after a few minutes of making out she finally pulls away brow furrowed, making him think he didn’t do a good job and that hey, maybe she changed her mind but instead she drags her fingers over his beard and huffs.

“Your mom’s right. We’re getting rid of this thing.”

He sighs and leans back on the seat, pulling her head over his chest.

When he realizes the way the scenery changes not immediately into Meka but instead to Hydra, with its cute bright color double floor houses and the cleanest streets with flowers hanging from every window or balcony and the town’s prideful colors flying from every corner, he moves up confused.

“I think we caught the wrong bus.”

“We didn’t. We’re going to Hydra.”

“I thought you wanted the onion rings diner?”

“I do, but first we’re buying you clothes.” she announces calmly as she keeps leaning into his chest though he’s moving up and down withe very bump on the road the bus takes. He told her not to go to the last seats, that they’d shake too much but she had taken it up as an exciting challenge and insisted they sit exactly there.

“What?”

“Your mom and I talked this morning when you were taking a shower and sending Octavia off.” she explains patiently not noticing the terror in his eyes “She made me promise I’ll take you out and force you to buy things for yourself.”

“We don’t have the money for that.”

“Yes we do.” she pats his chest suggesting he should just admit being defeated “Consider it an early birthday present. We all pitched in, even your aunt and O gave me her piggy bank savings which weren’t too much but told me to get you a gloves because according to her your hands were always cold.”

“But I don’t need that.” he tries again, pulling away from her.

“Bellamy you have one pair of jeans, two sweaters and three shirts.” she points out to which he shrugs.

“So what? Am I too much of a slum for you?”

“It’s not that. And as I said this isn’t about me. We all want you to have nice things.”

“I don’t need them.”

“I forgot when I asked for your opinion?” she taps her chin in a mock expression as she rolls her eyes up to the ceiling “Hm, that’s right, I didn’t.”

“Clarke-”

“We’re doing this, Bellamy.”

“Let’s at least go back to Arkadia. I don’t think there are thrift shops in Hydra.”

“Oh, we’re not buying you second hand stuff.” she announces still in the same smug way “We’ll get brand new things.”

“Clarke, no. No way! We are not spending that kind of money.” he fights her off and he’ll keep fighting her no matter what “Not when mom might need surgery! Not when we could use it for so many other things at home. You know I still have to fix the roof? And the gutters? And we could buy another heater for mom’s room so she’s-”

Clarke places her hand on his chest and pushes him back on the seat.

“Bellamy, your mom and I want you to have something of your own. Something nice and new. She doesn’t want you wearing down old clothes and going around in the winter with your shoes falling apart.” she nods at his feet where he still worse the same sneakers he had back when he first met her trying to steal her car.”

He looks away as if in shame but she picks his chin and makes him look at her.

“You always take care of everyone else. How about you let us take care of you now?”

“I don’t-”

“Need it, I know.” she finishes off before he can fight it off “But that’s too bad cause it’s happening whether you like it or not.” he huffs tiredly and moves his head away from her.

“Are you really going to press your forehead to the window and look outside like in a creepy depressing music video from the 90s?”

That makes him elbow her playfully in the ribs and she tries to pull him to her but he stubbornly keeps facing away from her so she basically climbs half on his back and pushes him down on the roll of seats causing a few of the older ladies sitting up front to glare at them.

“You’re going to get us kicked out before we’ve even made it there!” he whispers and she crosses her arms over her chest in her typical princessy Clarke mode.

“It’s not my fault you’re so damn stubborn and broody!”

He sighs and covers his head with his hand. For a moment he forgets how tired and sleepy he is, that is until they have to stand up and get off. It goes black before his eyes for a moment too long and he’s glad that for once Clarke’s already holding his hand in hers, so that she doesn’t see how much he can’t actually keep his balance.

She doesn’t notice that he feels bad and he’s glad because he refuses to let it ruin this day. Watching her tug him down the streets and blabbering enthusiastically makes him smile and he realizes he actually enjoys seeing her in all her hurricane passionate mode than himself wearing anything new.

“First shoes.” she insists and pulls him in the second shop in the long line of rows of others. Hydra was made like a little dream neighborhood where local merchandisers and producers thrived.

True, it wasn’t a rich neighborhood or even a better one that Meka but it was small and had all the middle class cutesy vibe to it like Clarke liked saying. They had little stores popping out of every corner and they sold on quality goods on acceptable prices.

Of course for Bellamy everything was too expensive.

“No, I think the boots are enough, Clarke.” he insists when she is pushing a pair of really nice blue sneakers in his hands to try after she spend half an hour convincing him to try the light brown boots that as much as he hated to admit it, warmed his feet in a way he hadn’t felt since he was maybe a kid.

“You can’t have one pair of shoes, Bellamy.” she insists and kneels down herself to pull out the boots so she could shove the sneakers up his feet. When she touches his sock her eyes widen and she looks up at him biting her lip “Your feet are wet.”

He shrugs, not knowing how to tell her that they were always wet these days ever since his old sneakers got a hole in the sole that he tried to unsuccessfully duck tape just so it doesn’t get too bad. (It still did.)

She sighs and helps him put the sneakers on but it turns they are a size too small and she asks the man behind the counter for the right one.

Bellamy notices the way the guy is eyeing him. He was wearing his old ragged jeans and the red washed out shirt with the black jacket his mom got for him that was a little bit too big.

His shoes were broken and his hair though shorter stuck in more than one direction. The bruise on his face hadn’t yet healed completely, neither did his knuckles-it was clear where he was coming from.

Meanwhile Clarke was wearing black tights and a brown fluffy skirt with a white button up and her beautiful winter coat that he so much adored ever since he first saw her with in the Lightbourne’s house.

Her hair was tied in a loose braid but in a way that adorable rich girls often carried it, with a few strands falling near her ear making her look cute. Her boots were new, barely stained by any wetness or snow and even by looking at her bag and not knowing it’s a prada one, he could tell she came from a wealthy family.

The retailer probably thought this was some charity case.

Which maybe…in a way it was.

But he didn’t want to fight with her-the way people viewed the world and judged the people in it wasn’t her fault and she was genuinely happy to be out with him right now. He had known she loves shopping and even made her of her for it but now he saw her that she truly genuinely loved picking out clothes and making others happy.

“Are they comfortable enough for you?” she asks when she makes him stand up and walk around while the man hovered near them pretending to be fixing some of the pairs on the shop window while surely he was keeping on eye on Bellamy in case he decided to steal something.

Clarke didn’t notice. Not at all.

He wasn’t sure if that was something to be grateful about or not.

He tried to give her a small smile and nod.

“Because if they’re not you can try on something else.” she insists when he doesn’t give her a proper response.

“No, those are great.” he reassures and the seller finally moves back to the counter but never really stops staring.

He wanted to get away from here as fast as possible, not being able to withstand that look in the man’s eyes-the fear, the disgust of him, it made his skin crawl.

Moreover those were the cheapest sneakers out of them all and he didn’t want to try onto something more expensive and waste his mother’s money on himself. 

“You work long hours, you need to be comfortable in them.”

“I am, I promise.”

She sighs and rubs her forehead as if she’s been dealing with him all day when it hasn’t even been half an hour. He almost felt sorry for her.

“Okay then.” she turns to the man and brings the two pairs in while he puts on his old shoes and realizes only after trying the new ones, how bad they really were. When she picks out the money to pay for them out of an envelope which had his name on with his mom’s handwriting, he wants the earth to swallow him whole. The guy’s staring at him like he’s nothing but a spit on the road but smiles at Clarke and politely wraps everything up for them.

Once they are outside, he can feel himself exhale.

“You good?” she wraps her hands around his arm and presses her body to his.

“Great.” he’s gotten so good at lying it doesn’t even take any effort to smile, it happens almost naturally.

“Okay, cause we have a long way to go. Bur first-” she pushes him to a bench down the street and makes him put on his new boots. He immediately feels his feet warm up again and tries to forget all about the seller when he sees Clarke beaming at him, happy that he finally has something good for himself.

However, things doesn’t change when they go to the next few stores no matter how big or small, there was always someone keeping an eye on them…on him, always lingering a few feet down and making sure they don’t take something.

Clarke keeps being oblivious to it all too happy to have him try on different shirts and sweaters and when she insists he buys more than one of each kind, he tries to fight her really hard on it, so hard they have an argument in the middle of the store.

“I’m sorry but I’ll ask you guys to leave.” they’re approached by a sixteen year old pimply boy who feels sorry to be doing this, probably because he has overheard their fight and knows it’s for something stupid and not really just a distraction for them to steal like the owner who send him here probably thinks.

“Why?” Clarke asks confused “What’s wrong?”

“Well you’re causing a scene and-”

“It’s okay, Clarke, let’s go.” he carefully puts his arm on her back and tries to guide her outside but she unfortunately decides to be her stubborn Clarke self.

“No, we haven’t done anything wrong. We were just bickering, we weren’t even fighting!” which, to be fair, she’s right about.

They hadn’t even raised their voices that much, he was just trying to tell her one or two shirts is perfectly fine, that he doesn’t need five and she was stubbornly but jokingly fighting him on it, throwing t-shirts in his head and pushing him to the changing room to try them on.

He currently had one still hanging over his shoulder.

“Is there a problem here?” another older guy, maybe in his late thirties who must’ve been the manager, comes by the teenager’s side and stands before them.

Bellamy protectively, on instinct moves before Clarke. He knew how that looked like-he was still wearing his old clothes, the only new thing on him were the boots and the bruise on his face wasn’t doing anyone any favors.

“Yes, there is. He was just about to try on some stuff when this one tried to kick us out.” she says crossing her arms and pointing at the pimply kid who’s shoulders sag and when the manager throws him an angry look, he carefully takes a step back.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we need you to leave.” a few of the other people in the store pretend that this isn’t happening but Bellamy notices they’re staring with the corner of his eyes and takes matters into his own hands.

“What? Why? We just want to buy some stuff.” Clarke keeps prodding and Bellamy feels his heart beat faster in his chest. 

“I doubt you have the means to…afford anything on here.” he says as politely as he can while his eyes roam over Bellamy from head to toe.

“I’m sorry, we’ll be leaving now.” Bellamy promises and Clarke gives him an angry look.

“No, we won’t! We came here to get you clothes!”

“Clarke, it’s okay, there are other places. It’s fine.” he raises his hands to the manager “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Bellamy, what are you-”

“Miss, if you don’t calm down I’m afraid I’ll have to call security.” the guy who picks up the walkie talkie from his belt and lets his thumb hover over the button warns as he takes another step forward so that he’s almost face to face with Bellamy.

She opens her mouth to fight again but he turns around and begs her with his eyes as he also reaches to grip her hand.

With a light shake of his head, she clenches her jaw and lets him take over.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. We’re leaving.” Bellamy explains keeping his voice as strong and polite as he can. As he’s about to leave, though the man grabs his arm and pushes him back so hard that Clarke who he was tugging forward stumbles over and his her face in his solid back. 

“You’re forgetting this.” the manager grabs the shirt that was still hanging over his shoulder and pulls it away. He can feel Clarke tense behind him but all he does is smile and apologize before they scramble for the exit.

He doesn’t stop pulling her away from the place until they’re a few blocks down.

“What the hell was that about!” she throws her hands in the air angrily and he doesn’t pay her any attention because right now he’s trying to contain his own anger.

He feels his body slow down, his heart beat way too fast in his chest and when the darkness lingers at the corner of his eyes he knows he has to stop and sit down before he passes out.

He tugs her to the nearest bench and sits down without warning but when he thinks he’s still strong enough to put her down she tears her hand away and stands still before him.

“Bellamy-”

“You really don’t have the right to be mad now, princess.” he mumbles and her face which is red and angry, ready to fight, suddenly falls. “Because this isn’t about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You really didn’t notice, did you?” he asks when he moves to res his hands on his knees and she finally sits down putting all the bags of clothes and shoes in her feet. “The way the guy at the shoe shop was looking at me? How he hovered the entire time? Or the lady in the jeans’ ones? And now again, even before the manager or the kid came by?”

“I…” she shakes her head “I don’t understand.”

“Clarke, look at me” he gestures down at his clothes, then up his face “What do you think they see?” she shakes her head in confusion and he sighs running his fingers through his hair “I’m a teenage half Filipino boy with dirty clothes and a bruise on my face.”

“You’re-”

“No, I don’t need you to say it’s not true because it is and I’m not ashamed of who I am. But I just want you to understand that this…is what it is like for people like me. People from Arkadia, my background, my heritage. We’re constantly examined, every actions, every small gesture is seen and read a certain way.”

Clarke’s head hangs low and for a moment too long he feels bad for her because she truly never had to face this, never saw it or experienced it and he almost feels bad for her until she speaks up.

“You’re right-” she says after a moment “I really don’t have a right to be mad.” he shrugs but just stares at his intertwined hands before he pulls out a cigarette from his pack and lights it up.

She doesn’t fight him on that one, though she doesn’t seem happy about it but he’s too nervous and tired and goddamn barely holding himself together so he needs it.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve.”

“I told you before…we live different lives in different worlds.” she reaches her hand to him and intertwines her fingers with his rubbing her thumb over in a soothing manner that he believed was intended more to help her than him.

“I made it worse, didn’t I?” he shrugs.

“That guy was seconds away from calling the police.” he mumbles rubbing the back of his neck and taking another drag from his cigarette “I’m not…I have a record, I’m still on probation now that I’m out.” he swallows hard “I can’t do that again, Clarke.”

“You won’t.” she promises and tugs him closer to her chest. He throws the cigarette off on the ground and puts it off with his shoe, letting her hold him. They stay like this for a while, just her running her fingers through his hair, obviously deep in thoughts and he…he’s so tired he feels like if they stay a little longer he’ll pass out.

He hasn’t slept in five days.

So if he does fall he won’t wake up for at least twelve hours.

And they couldn’t do that on a bench in the middle of Hydra.

“Maybe we can go to Meka now and get some onion rings.” he mumbles and her hand ends up cupping his cheek and pulling his face up.

“No way are we going home to your mom with two pairs of shoes and some jeans. We need to finish this.”

He groans and that makes her smile but she seems to be buried deep in thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. They are still mostly followed around in shops but now she’s mindful of it and when she feels that he doesn’t feel comfortable or that he thinks something’s too expensive for them, they just leave and she doesn’t pressure him about it.

She wants more for him, she really does, but in the end it’s just two sweaters, one vest(which he really didn’t want but she convinced him it looks great on him), two button ups and five (he fought for them to be just three) t-shirts as well as some socks and a new jacket or more like a coat.

Now he had really tried to pull up a fight for this one. After all, his mom had gotten him that black one just a few months ago and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to wear it when he was in juvie. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, it was old and shabby and ruff around the sleeves and zipper but it was comfortable and fairly new according to his standards.

However, his mom had specifically insisted they got him a brand new one and after an hour of struggling and whisper fighting with him so they don’t really bring any unnecessary attention to themselves, they agree on a nice dark blue coat that had a bunch of extra pockets which he insisted on.

It wasn’t typically his style and he did felt awkward in it at first but when he looked himself in the mirror he kind of liked it and Clarke saw it so all she had to do was push him a bit more before he finally relented.

It also wasn’t too expensive but when they made it out and Clarke insisted he changed into it, he still felt bad.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks when they decide to make a turn near a side street that lead to what seemed to be a small park area with swings and children running around. 

“I just…” he shrugs when they make it to a bench and settle down for a bit, resting their feet after all the walking around. “I keep turning everything we spent into money I could use for food or medicine.” her hand reaches to his back rubbing it up and down in a soothing manner. “I know it’s stupid but-”

“It’s not. You’ve always put those things first, it makes sense you’re thinking about them the most.” she brings his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles with softness he had been craving since last night when they were curled up in bed together. “But it’s also okay to think of yourself too. To put yourself first.”

He smiles shyly.

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know.” she leans her head over on his shoulder and looks at their fingers intertwined. “You’ll learn, though.” he hmms at that, not really sure if he agrees with her “And I need to learn too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been living in a bubble all my life. It’s been only in the past few months since I met you and your family that I realized how much I don’t really know about our town and the people in it.”

“You know if you plan to rush in and save every criminal in Arkadia, you and I we’re gonna have a problem.” he sounds a bit too sour for his liking which makes her chuckle.

“Oh, yeah, why’s that?” he leans down and rubs his nose against her but not before removing a strand of hair from her face and kissing her. 

“I kind of like having you around, Griffin.” he jokes lightly when they pull away and it’s her turn to cup his cheek and map some of his freckles.

“You do?” he hmms “How much?”

“Only all the time.” he smiles and kisses her again feeling her bury her fingers in his hair and pull him closer to her. 

“I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do.” he only pulls away because he feels that same tired wave overwhelm him again and he has to hide it from her. They lean back on the bench and simply rest for a while, his arm still wrapped around her and her head once again resting on his chest.

“You know you didn’t once shiver when I touched you today.” she says after a moment and upon realizing she’s right he smiles. “I’m proud of you.” he feels her hand reach to cup his chin and pulls his head down for a quick peck.

“Can’t get enough of me, Griffin?” she slaps his chest playfully at that but he still does kiss her forehead in response to her words, happy that this was the case today but refraining from saying anything. He knew during the day the demons disappeared, it was what happened at night that made it so hard to breathe but if she was hopeful about it, he’d let her be so. After all, he could handle it and she shouldn’t have to.

They know they should probably get going if they still want to make it to that diner and go back home for dinner but they’re lazying it out, letting themselves rest a bit longer on the bench with the winter sun grazing their faces.

It has been a good sunny though pretty cold day but Bellamy liked it. He loved feeling the snow crunch under his now new boots and seeing Clarke’s nose get red and a little rainy.

She’d always keep a tissue in her pockets to brush it but every now and then she’d either lose it or have to throw it so he kept a few extra in his right jeans pocket and handed her one whenever she needed it. 

“How come you’re so good with this damn cold weather?” she had asked him when they walked down the street with his arm wrapped around her and pressing her body to his side to keep her warm.

“I got training, princess.” he had joked and she had pouted but buried her nose in his new jacket.

He smiles fondly at the memory now but when he hears her stomach grumble he finally pushes her to get up.

“Come on, you haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. We should go.”

“But I like it here-”

“I know, come on the bus stop is right around the corner. We’ll be in Meka in twenty minutes.” he promises and she tries to pout when he picks up all the bags on to carry them on his own and she has to run behind him and try to stop him.

He’s laughing at her complains when they make a turn to the left and because he’s distracted he feels his body crash into something. There’s a bunch of giggle’s and girl’s voices screaming in high pitches before they both realize they’ve collided with a small group of little taekwondo fighters.

When his eyes fall into a familiar face in the back of the ten or fifteen second graders, his mouth stretches in a smile.

His aunt Leah had signed up O for lessons two months ago, just a bit after he got into juvie, mostly because she wouldn’t stop begging her too but also because his mom and her considered this to be a good distraction for her after everything they’ve been through this year and a nice outlet of her excessive energy.

He wasn’t sure how good of an idea that was considering she did fight a girl at school but according to the councilor this was a way for her to control those urges and get a healthy outlet of her anger at the same time which sounded logical to him.

“Octavia-” he says happily that they stumbled on her even though he only send her off to her aunt a few hours ago, he already missed her. The girls stumble near him and Clarke, circle them and pout or exclaim in an angry and annoyed way which is quite adorable to him but Octavia is not moving, dead in her tracks, standing near what seemed to be the teacher and a few other girls that had lingered behind.

She doesn’t make a move to come and hug him, she doesn’t even show in any way that she recognizes him.

“O, is everything alright?”

“Octavia, who’s that?” the teacher asks “Do you know him?”

“I’m her brother.” he says but the woman is not paying attention to him and Octavia makes not move to confirm his statement, the girls are still chatting around so his words get swallowed in the noise. He feels Clarke’s hand on his arm, holding him close and if she wasn’t there he’s not really sure he could’ve kept standing upright.

It’s the way she’s looking at him-with shame and disappointment, something he has only caught a glimpse of on a few occasions before and only when his aunt was there with them. Octavia’s eyes fell on his broken self forcing him to look down and wonder if there was something really wrong with him.

“Octavia?” Clarke asks too, voice confused as much as it was surprised but his sister doesn’t even look at her and only now does he take the time to pay attention to her.

She’s not wearing the clothes he send her to his aunt with. There was no trace of her black tights and the old blue dress he helped her put on. Now she was wearing a nice white skirt with red dots on it and a cute unicorn long sleeve shirt to match it as well as a purple flashy puffy jacket and pretty red boots with rainbow ties. Her hair was no longer in the braid he did for her this morning, instead it was wrapped in a high ponytail and her nails were painted purple and red but in a way that seemed…too professional, too…classsy, like it was done by someone who knew how to make it look good instead of what they did at home with him splashing every color their mom or Clarke had available and then letting her do the same.

This wasn’t his sister.

And he could only assume what she saw when she looked at him even with her child brain. He was still wearing his old clothes except for the jacket and the shoes, he looked very much like hell, not having slept for days and carrying a shiny blue eye.

It wasn’t him she didn’t want to recognize.

It was what she associated him with-their home, their neighborhood, their poverty.

The disgust in her look said it all, the fear in his eyes was because she didn’t want him to say anything. The other girls had already started prodding her, giving her curious looks, asking who that is and why does she know someone looking like that.

When the teacher asks her again if she knows who he is she shakes her head.

“I don’t know this man.” she whispers eyes pinning on the ground so the teacher looks at him and because he feels the situation from the store might repeat he again, raises his hands in the air and apologizes.

“I’m sorry,ma’am, I got confused.” Bellamy says softly, but his voice breaks while Octavia’s shoulders sag in relief and she exhales gratefully. Now she looks him in the eyes trying to say thanks but all he carries in his is pain. 

“This girl really looks like my sister, but it’s not her.”

The teacher nods and rushes the girls to keep going, obviously uncomfortable with the entire exchange and when they pass by him and Octavia lifts her head up he makes sure he keeps his eyes steadily looking forward and not at her.

Once they’re gone, he staggers so hard, finally letting all the tension go, that he reaches to lean on the wall of the building beside them but misses it and almost tumbles down.

“Bellamy-” Clarke catches him last minute and he feels himself lean into her way too much. She was shorter and though he had lost weight there was no way she could support all of him so she’s smart about it-pushing them both to the wall and helping him lean his back to it. 

His hand moves to his chest, feeling it heavy and when he closes his eyes and listens to his heart trumping he can tell it’s way too fast.

“What is it?”

“It’s okay…I just…” her hand moves to take his wrist and feel his pulse but he shakes her off. “It’s not that, I’m just tired.” and he’s not really lying to her. Yes, his heart was being a bastard right now but he feels that goddamn pull at his bones and he knows he won’t be able to make it far without passing out. His best bet was getting home and fast.

“Didn’t you sleep at all last night?” she asks, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other was tightly wrapped around his back keeping him standing when she watches him shake his head “But you said-”

“I lied.” he huffs and closes his eyes “Look, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, I just…I guess I reached my limit. We should get home.”

“Okay.” she agrees without much protest but he knows she’s angry.

They make it to the bus stop with her arms tightly wrapped around his, keeping him steady but he still looks as if he’s drunk and not just extremely tired and on the verge of passing out. 

He gets even more sluggish when they make it inside and she has to half drag him to the back seats again while also balancing all their bags and not falling herself.

He’s like a kid in those moments, his eyes drooping and his words all messed up when he tries to talk to her so she just pulls his head to her chest and holds him close.

“Mom…I don’t want her to know bout this”

“Which one is that?” she asks “Your sister refusing to recognize you on the street, the fact you don’t sleep or what happened at the store.”

“Any of…it.” he mumbles and she smiles when she watches his loosely wrapped up arms around her back and how cute he looks in his new jacket. His fingers never stop drawing circles on her back as if she was the one in need of calming down.

“I won’t say anything but I think…you should.” she says gently as she keeps running her fingers in his hair. He humms and like a boy keeps burying his nose deeper into the crook of her neck just like she did the other night. “Maybe you can sleep some on the way home.”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Bellamy-”

“I’m not trying to be stubborn” he explains and when she looks down at him and sees him swallow hard all she can think about is that she’s not supposed to be making oogly eyes at the way his adam apple bops and find it attractive but she can’t help it. “It’s just that if I fall…I won’t be able to wake up for a while.”

“When you were there…how did you deal with it? Was it the same?” he shrugs but it’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it so she lets it be. 

“Can you just hold me like this till we get home?” he asks, voice barely a whisper his eyes turned to look at her like a lost child in a middle of a busy street all alone and without a way out. She thought that maybe…this was all his life was now-sleepless nights, hard work and worrying about his family.

“Of course. I’ll never let you go.” she promises and he closes his eyes but judging by the sound of his breathing he really doesn’t fall asleep. 


	13. Trooper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for reading! This is another longer chapter. It's a bit hard for me to split the story into chapters cause I just wrote everything in one really long thing and now it sucks to split it but I hope you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan.

His body does jerk and jump at every light noise the bus makes and his grip on her waist tightens with every bump on the road.

He seems to be constantly on edge and she knew it wasn’t just his screwed up heart making his breathing so harsh or his eyes snapping open with fear at every one of those cases.

He had been through something terribly traumatic-first getting shot at, caught by the police, then thinking he’s finally safe and recovering only to be shoved in juvie and get tortured in ways she didn’t even fully understand or know about before he got out to find his mom sick again and his sister refusing to recognize him on the street.

It was a lot for a regular person.

But for a seventeen year old with a heart disease and too many things on his hands it must be…unbearable.

She marvels at his strength once more when they make it home and find his mom surprisingly awake not just in a mood and feeling better but also cooking.

This happened sometimes, Clarke herself had witnessed it.

Aurora may have days when she couldn’t get up or barely even made it to the other room but when she gathered enough strength and felt her heart a little bit lighter she had a sudden surge of energy that lasted for just a few hours before she felt really weak again and had to be carried to bed.

Apparently now it was one of those moments.

Bellamy puts on his best facade and she observes the way he changes when he puts on his walls and the mask of someone who yes, might look a bit tired, but otherwise felt good, even happy.

And maybe he wasn’t even faking it in that moment-he loved his mom so much and seeing her like this, even though he knew it wouldn’t last long, made him genuinely smile.

“Come on, come on! Try them for me.” Aurora insists when they put on all the bags on the table and she starts taking things out. “Oh I love that shirt! Great job, Clarke.” she says at the burgundy red plaid shirt she picked for him that was a little more expensive than the others but fit perfectly with the red woven sweater she insisted on him buying as much as he disagreed with her. 

“Mom, do I have to, I think that-” but all Aurora had to do is cross her arms over her chest and jut her lip in a scolding manner.

“I would like to see my son wearing brand new clothes for the first time in years.” she says sternly “Now.”

He sighs but goes to his room and changes into the stuff they bought making Clarke feel bad as she could see how truly tired he was, how he struggled to put on his sleeves and button the shirts, so she went in and help him while he fumbled with his trembling hands.

Aurora was ecstatic, she even got a bit teary eyed and though it was just a few new things, not nearly enough as what Clarke had in her wardrobe, it seemed to make all the difference for them.

“I love the coat.” she said, standing up and coming in to fix his collar and smiling at him fondly while he pretends to still be pouty about that one. “My boy is so grown up.” she says teary eyed.

“Mom…”

“But you are.” she keeps looking at him fondly “Only yesterday you were a three year old begging me to read you from _The Iliad_ or explain how the letters work.”

“Okay, let’s not embarrass me in front of my girl-…Clarke.” he tries but that only makes them both chuckle and Clarke blush at the fact that he almost said she was his girlfriend.

“He was the cutest baby, you know?” Aurora explains turning to Clarke and letting him scoff behind her “All chubby and with so much hair. God, he had freckles everywhere just like now but his hair was so much. When they put him in my arms I couldn’t believe it.”

“Oh my god, okay I’m going to go change now.” he excuses himself trying to escape the torture of listening his mom talk about the way he wrapped his little fist around her finger or how he was the quietest and softest even back then, as if he didn’t want to disturb her.

When he makes it to his room, he knows he won’t last much longer so instead he opens the window, despite the cold coming from outside and lights one last cigarette.

Then, however, he’s too wobbly on his feet, too tired and forgets to close it so he falls face down on the bed after throwing off his new clothes and tugging in on his old sweat pants, not bothering to even cover himself with the blanket.

He does feel the cold and at the back of his mind he registers that he forgot the window but he is so tired, bone tired, it’s like the weight is pulling down at him so hard, he just can’t make himself stand up, that he just can’t do anything about it.

It’s not until Clarke comes in the room almost half an hour later and finds him there.

When she realizes the cold is coming from the window and it’s not just the regular temperature of their house, she rushes to close it and finds his body trembling.

The idiot fell asleep without covering himself with anything, wearing nothing but his old sweat pants and one of his washed out shirts, so she rushes in to pull the blankets and struggles to move him on his side of the bed until he’s all tucked in.

He’s not fully asleep…or maybe that was how he got rest these days but most of the time his eyes were half open and he was grunting and groaning when she tried to roll him to the right place, mumbling something quietly but not actually being there.

When she’s sure he’s all tucked in she makes an excuse for Aurora, telling her he passed out after being so tired and making sure that she saves him a plate, his mom pushes her to his room and tells her she’s got it gesturing at all the dirty plates and promises she’ll head to bed soon herself.

Clarke changes into her (and his) favorite PJs, the one with the unicorn but she’s not sleepy.

She can’t sleep, not when he’s like that, so she simply sneaks under the covers with him and lies on her pillow that smells like him, facing his tired face, his closed eyes.

It’s painful watching him like this, his body trembling even now, unable to truly rest, his hands unconsciously reaching out to grab at something and the moment she realizes how much he actually needs her, she wraps her fingers tightly around his cold ones.

His mouth falls open and he mumbles something she can’t understand, groans in pain sometimes, throws his body back so violently, she thinks he’ll fall off the bed.

Maybe he had before?

Maybe when he slept on that lumpy couch he fell and got hurt and woke up all on his own.

Her eyes water at that. He’d rather go through this by himself than let her help him. The thought makes her close her own eyes and try to hold her tears but though she thinks herself stronger than that, they still somehow spill.

Images flash before her eyes-images of finding him tossing on the couch, walking hunched with hands covered in grease,shoulder sagging from the pain, images of his shallow breathing, his hand on his chest, but mostly…the pain in his eyes. 

When she opens them again and looks at his curled up figure, his head falling to hers as if on instinct trying to get close to her even in his restless sleep, a whimper escapes her lips and she has to tear her hand away from his and cover her mouth to stifle it, afraid she might disturb him.

God…why was there so much pain? Why did she have to be born in a good rich family, have all her heart desires, clothes, a car, her father’s love, his worry, but he had to…struggle so much? Why was it like that?

Who or what decided that? How was it he got so much more pain to carry around than her?

What made him different? What made her lucky?

She thinks that now that he’s passed out, though his body might be trembling, at least with time, it’d quiet down, the tremors will die out and he’ll really rest.

But she couldn’t have been more wrong about it.

Half an hour or so after when she’s lying next to him, catching up with her AP Bio lesson, he starts stirring.

“We haven’t done anything wrong!” he says, whispers. The worst thing about this was that he didn’t scream-it’s like even in his sleep he knew that he shouldn’t and can’t disturb anyone, that he absolutely can not let someone hear him or worry about him.

Too bad she was already there and witnessed it all. 

He rolls on his back, raises his hands above his body, moving the blanket off his chest. Her eyes somehow fall on the scar on his shoulder exposed by the way his shirt that was apparently too big even for him, had twisted and exposed his arm and the sight makes her look away.

She can still remember all the blood covering his body when they found him and how it wouldn’t stop seeping through the bandages even when they brought him in that same house, lying in that same bed.

“It’s not Miller…it was me!” he whispers as he keeps tossing and turning, moving his feet up under the blanket and pushing himself towards the wooden bed board as if he was trying to back himself into a corner and save himself, protect himself. “Leave him alone!”

She reaches to grab his hand and shake him, pull him back to reality.

She’s foolish to think it’ll be that easy.

“Bellamy!” she calls his name “Bell, wake up!” she tries as quietly as she can and though she knows Aurora is probably passed out in her room she doesn’t want to risk waking her up.

He whimpers at her touch, pulls himself away and rolls over with his back to her, curling up in a fetal position and covering his head with his hands, crying.

She panics when he starts hitting his head with his fists and she rushes in to grab his wrist and pull them away from his head.

He’s still struggling under her, fighting her, probably imagining a guard hitting him or trying to overpower him. It’s hard because even in his weakened state, he’s strong and when she manages to roll him over on his back again, he tries to pull away and fight her so she jumps over his stomach, straddles him, pulls his arms above his head.

“Bellamy!” she shakes him head “Wake up, come on!” 

“No…no, don’t…it was me. It was me” he keeps tossing his head left and right and she’s out of ideas so the only thing that comes out of nowhere, probably the most illogical or irrational one is leaning down and capturing his lips with hers.

She doesn’t expect it to work but it does-the gentleness of her lips on his startles him so much that his eyes snap open if only for a minute. His body immediately quiets down and stops struggling and he chokes on his tears.

“Clarke-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re fine, you’re fine.” she promises. He’s so tired that he can’t stay awake as much as he wants to but he does try to warn her.

“You need to get…out of here…”

“I told you. I’m not going anywhere.” she promises and helps him roll on his side again as she spoons him from behind, thinking that this would be the only way she can prevent him from actually hurting himself if this happens again.

He falls, shivering like he’s burning with fever and at some point while she draws circles on his chest with her finger and listens to his irregular heartbeat, she thinks that this will be it.

His rattled breathing almost lulls her back to sleep and then a moment or so later (an hour actually, she realizes, when she checks the electronic clock on the bedside drawer), she wakes up from his movements.

He’s not tossing this time and he’s not kicking his legs. No…it’s something worse.

His hands that were crossed over his chest were moving-or more like he was dragging his nails all over them, hard and painfully, drawing blood as he whimpered and cried again.

“Murphy-” it was Murphy this time, not his friend Miller, it wasn’t juvie “Murphy…I’ll die here.” the words send her into a spiral and she reaches to unwrap his hands from his arms and stop him from hurting himself but he’s stronger and he keeps digging his nails and leaving red trails. “I’ll die…I’m dying.”

He must be dreaming about being shot, she realizes, maybe in the cell with Murphy.

_Oh God._

Why was this happening to him?

“I’m dying.” he keeps saying and the tears fall on his arms and mix in with the blood there, his shirt is sweated through, so wet that she could feel the dampness on her own PJs.

Until now, Clarke always though he was fighting something external.

A storm that raged through his body, his house, his neighborhood even. Something bigger and stronger than any of them that he dealt with as best as he could and still fought against.

But now she realized this wasn’t something he fought against out here.

It was in him.

The hurricane, the storm, the raging ocean with its big waves and its dark clouds hanging over, those weren’t things he braved on the outside.

It was deep within him.

And it was killing him.

“I’m dying…I’m dying” he kept whispering and she grabbed on his arm and pushed it down to his stomach, keeping it there.

He struggled against her, obviously thinking someone’s fighting him and going to hurt him but when she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck and kisses his cheek, he immediately relaxes into her.

“No, you’re not.” she whispers “You’re not dying.” he opens his eyes again, just for a moment, as if to put an end on this particular nightmare and then the moment he does, they flutter back close and his body goes slack into hers.

Once she’s sure he’s resting, at least for now, she gets up teary eyed and rummages in his closet for a clean shirt.

Changing him is easier than she expected. He’s slack on the bed as a doll, so she uses the fetal position he’s curled up in to pull his wet off and carefully tuck the new one over.

His body is cold to the touch and when she leans her head over his chest to listen to his heart, she finds that at times, it’s beating very slowly and others it’s as if threatening to burst through his chest. The nightmares were sending his body physically on a bender, as if he was constantly being put near a cliff’s edge and then pulled back to safety.

She was afraid of the toll it was taking on and that it was too much.

Next time he wakes up, he’s calling her name and she couldn’t be more surprised.

This one is quieter, not as violent as the others, his body is shaking hard though and he’s reaching out his hands as if desperate to touch her.

“I’m sorry, Clarke” he’s whispering and her arms wrap tighter around him again, pulling his back to his chest “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh, I’m here.” she whispers in his ear and kisses his cheek which makes him relax a bit somewhat but he still keeps on dreaming.

“I never wanted to hurt you-” he cries out and when she looks at his face she sees the tears there.

She pulls her sleeve over her hand and dabs them away because watching him cry out of terror was one thing but seeing him struggle because he thought he hurt her…that broke her heart. 

“I didn’t want to steal your car…I didn’t…I..” he stutters, struggling to pull air in and out and for some reason this turns might be the most horrible one for her when she hears him say the words.

“I know that you hate me.” he buries his face in the pillow “I understand. I’m sorry.” whatever Clarke in his dream was telling him it was apparently that he was a major disappointment who hurt her really bad and he kept on crying and asking for her forgiveness and she just…couldn’t stand it.

“Bellamy, I’m here.” she whispers in his ear again, taking on his hand and intertwining their fingers when she realizes he’s about to hurt himself again, desperate to punish himself even in his sleep for all of his mistakes. 

“I’m here and I forgive you.” she says her own tears falling over his cheek but this time she kisses them away with her lips “You didn’t hurt me” she whispers “You saved me.”

Whatever she is saying or doing must be working at least for the time being.

And she prays, hopes that this will be the last time he suffers.

But it is not.

It happens over and over and over again, three more times.

Sometimes he’s just curling up and crying, shivering as if someone’s hitting him, the next it’s crying and apologizing to his mom, to her, to Octavia.

He talks about things she doesn’t know about, people he hasn’t mentioned, or Anya, Dax.

His fists raise before him so he can defend himself or he crumbles and falls deeper and deeper into his embrace.

She doesn’t know why he was afraid he’d hurt her before.

All that he did was try to hurt himself.

Hitting his head with his fists, dragging his nails over his arms, whimpering, crying, tossing and turning till he almost falls off the edge of the bed and if she wasn’t there to straddle him, stop the demons from drowning him, he could’ve really gotten hurt. 

At some point, at dawn, when the sun is about to rise, surprisingly, he calms down, his body and his mind might finally have decided that this is enough for him and he simply rests. 

With teary eyes, she pulls away from him, sitting in bed and leaning on the wooden board, trying to figure out what to do, how to help him.

She reaches for her lap top in the bag from school she thankfully brought in, in case she decided to work some on her English essay and pulls it open in her lap.

Being the fixer that she was, she could never simply let this go, she had to find a way out to help him. 

But no matter how much she typed and read, trying to find more on the subject, it felt as if it was futile.

Or more like, that no one could offer a solution for her which drove her crazy.

Frustrated, she closes the lap top and grabs her phone, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

She contemplates hitting the screen, throwing a look back at him to make sure he’s really passed out this time and there was no chance of him waking again. 

Finally, she dials the number and surprisingly doesn’t have to wait long before her mom picks up, apparently being awake at the early hours of the day herself.

Clarke didn’t want to think about what she could be doing and if it was drinking. Or if she never actually fell asleep and wasted her night drowning her sorrows whatever they were all about, in a bar.

“Clarke? Is everything okay?” she sounds genuinely concerned and thankfully for Clarke, sober too.

By now she could easily tell when she was out of it. When she was a kid she’d sometimes wonder if she had done something wrong or if her mom was just not in a mood, maybe having too many things to worry about at work, patients she wanted to help, people that waited for her to save them.

Only later did she realize that the person she should be trying to save was herself. 

“Everything’s fine. Can’t I just call?”

“It’s six in the morning and not Friday.”

Friday was the day Clarke always called and they exchanged the same stupid platitudes and answered each other’s same questions without them meaning anything at all.

It was something her dad insisted on, ever since she went away for treatment and then decided to stay East instead of coming home.

He said Clarke needs to have a relationship with her mom even if Abby never understood Clarke’s choices, even if she judged her about every little thing from her weight to her sexuality to her decisions on what to major in and where to go to school.

It was and will always be, a rough patch, Clarke was sure.

But she indulged her dad because she loved him and maybe, after all, in times like this, she could actually use her mom.

“I need to ask something.” Clarke cuts to the chase “A medical something.”

“Okay?” Abby seems a bit surprised but for once doesn’t interrupt her.

“If someone who has an inherent heart disease but started suffering from PTSD with severe insomnia and maybe even panic attacks…what would you say the treatment can be?”

Abby sighs on the other side obviously thinking over her words and trying to come up with an answer.

“That’s a tough case.” her voice is quiet, tired too, which confirms Clarke’s suspicions that maybe she didn’t sleep at all last night. Or maybe she wasn’t home as well, maybe she didn’t want anyone else to overhear her talking to her kid. Clarke shakes her head away trying not to clear her mind of that. “Are they taking medications for the heart condition?”

“He is.” she winces the moment she realizes what she’s done.

“He?”

“Mom, please. This is important to me.” again, silence on the other side, Clarke can almost imagine her sitting on her bed or in a chair and fisting her hand, letting her nails dig in her palm, pursing her lips in the way she always did before she started a fight with her. 

“Is this the boy your dad told me about? The one you’ve been spending all that time with?”

“Mom-”

“Well the point of those medications are to slow the heart down. They are supposed to make him actually…more sleepy, slow, sometimes even as if he’s too tired and weak. They have to pace him to regulate the blood flow and help ease the pressure on his heart.”

“So if you add anything antidepressant to that it will only make it worse.”

“Yes, technically. You can’t slow an already very slowed down heart. It will probably cause a bunch of abnormalities, make his blood pressure too high or low…basically decrease his quality of life.”

Clarke sighs, covering her forehead with her hand and staring down at her bare feet.

“It’s a vicious cycle, is what you’re saying.”

“Yes, more or less. Then again the PTSD can affect the way his heart works so that’s not good for him either and shouldn’t be left untreated. Can he rest at all?”

Clarke throws another look at his sleeping figure and then stares right ahead, the sunlight coming from the window and illuminating the old wooden floor before her.

“Barely.”

“Then his best bet is talking to someone. Or finding a way to relief the pressure and deal with the trauma otherwise he’ll drown and make himself worse.”

Clarke nods though her mom can’t see her.

Bellamy Blake and therapy…that wasn’t going to work.

No way would he agree to see professional help,not with the way things were about them now-his mom probably needing surgery, all the medications they had to pay for-they couldn’t afford that.

“I’m not sure that’s an option.”

“Well he has to talk to someone. Or at least find a way that works for him to..let it all out and sleep. You can check some group sessions in the region or…well, have you thought of maybe getting a dog for him? Doesn’t have to be an all trained one, maybe he can adopt one from a shelter and work with that, see if it helps?”

“That’s not a bad idea. Though he does have too many things to take care of.”

“The purpose of that would be that the dog helps him, not the other way around. You could train it yourselves, there is a book I can tell you about and one of my coworkers from Arkadia memorial had a set of videos online on how to train a service dog. I think Jackson can help you with that.”

“Thanks, mom.” Clarke finally says with a quiet sigh, actually meaning it. 

“You’re welcome.” Abby responds with a sigh “How bad is his heart?”

“I’m not sure exactly but Jackson says it’s worse than it should be for someone at that age.”

“Who else is sick in his family?”

“His mom. She’ll probably need an ICD soon.” Abby hmms on the other side of the line and they let the silence consume them for a moment “Well…I hope he gets better.”

She’s not sure if Abby means it but she decides to take the hand extended to her.

It’s been a while since she had a normal conversation with her mom like that and the fact that it was over Bellamy of all things, doesn’t only surprise her but also makes her feel like things weren’t completely lost to the two of them.

They bid their goodbyes and Abby assures her she can always call her if she has more questions but Clarke’s not sure if she could do that again, talk about…whatever Bellamy was to her, with her mom, even if it was medical, having the feeling that the next time Abby won’t be so gentle.

After, she lays down next to him. He’s been quiet ever since the morning came, as if his body knew that the darkness of the night is all gone and there were no demons to drown him.

When he feels her next to her, he nuzzles closer to her but doesn’t talk or toss and turn-he’s quiet, soft…it makes her smile seeing him like this.

She thinks she should get some sleep herself but she can’t stop her brain from thinking, so she just lays there, looking at him, mapping the freckles on his face, listening to his breathing, watching the curls on his forehead move with his quiet snores, making her almost chuckle with fondness.

He was so young, life was yet to come for him, for them and it felt to her as if he’s been through at least thirty years of hell.

She couldn’t imagine what he had to live through every day…but she could observe it and it was sad and ugly and so damn wrong it made her angry, made her bawl her hands into fists and want to scream at the world to just let him go, just let him go. 

She cuddles closer to him, tucks her face under his chin and in his sleep, again, like before, he must feel her, sense her because he moves his arm over her body and throws it carefully pulling her to his chest.

She revels in the fact that she’s just there in his arms and lets her body relax, lets herself just be a girl lying in bed with her…again, she wasn’t sure what they were but Bellamy?

He was her friend. A friend she was kind of in love with.

A friend who looked at her and didn’t see just a rich spoiled princess (at least not anymore.)

He was her sweet freckled boy.

The thought made her heart clench with love. 

She takes turns cupping his cheeks, moving up to kiss his neck, his cheeks, remove a stubborn curl away from his eye or simply let him hold her and let herself be held even if she knew she couldn’t want that of him, not in the state he was in.

At some point around noon, he finally wakes up. It’s a funny affair, watching his eyelids move up, his mouth fall open in a sweet quiet yawn and then the smile when he sees her there in his arms.

“What time is it?” he asks but though his voice seems relaxes he does look tired to her. Of course he would…he never truly got the healthy sleep he needed minus the last few hours.

“Around noon.”

That of course makes him jolt up in a sitting position and look around frantically.

“What? Why didn’t you-” she grabs his elbow and pushes him down.

“Because you needed it.” she says and keeps her tight grip on his arm until he gives her a quizzical look when he realizes she’s pursing her lips and seems mad about something. 

“I’m fine, Clarke. I slept.” he tries giving her a soft smile but she just sighs, shaking her head and once again burying her face just for a moment in the pillow, breathing in his scent.

“I don’t think anyone would call that sleeping, Bellamy.” she says carefully and he rolls over so once again they are facing each other. “I don’t know if you remember but you…you woke up about at least five times-” he swallows hard and closes his eyes at her words “You were shaking, talking in your sleep.”

“Did I hurt you?”

Her hand falls over his where he left small paths of red for her finger to carefully tread over.

“No, but you hurt yourself.” he looks down to see what she’s pointing at, as if he didn’t feel any of it at all, as if he was so used to pain that something as minor as a scratch done by his own hands is not even worth paying attention.

Maybe he has done it before too, she realizes, but he simply ignored it or never actually even noticed it.

“Bellamy, this is bad.” she says meeting his eyes “We need to do something.”

He sighs closing his eyes and scooting closer once again, kissing her forehead gently.

“You know how the doctors say my heart is all…fucked up?” he begins whispering and she nods but his eyes roam all over the room as he tries to gather his thoughts. 

“I can’t really explain what exactly is wrong, the science behind it is…too much for me. I know it’s weak and it will only get worse with time but sometimes it just feels like…to me, it feels like there’s a big hole in it.”

He swallows hard and finally his brown ocean falls on her face again and he tries to give her a sad smile.

“And sometimes it feels like…there’s all there is to me, you know? A boy with a hole in his heart, a boy whose hands are too cold, who’s face is too pale, who…is more a ghost than a person.”

“Bellamy-”

“No,it’s okay, I just…we’re talking right?” she kisses him briefly in reassurance “It’s just….what I mean is that sometimes it is hard to be more than just that.”

“You don’t want to be defined by it.” she says in understanding and he nods.

“But this isn’t your heart, Bellamy. This is…this is your mind, your soul struggling. This is something else.”

He shrugs, not really willing to face it, to believe it, to maybe even let it sink in at all.

“It is no way to live.” she adds as she tucks a lose strand of hair.

“And what is?” he whispers back.

“Anything but that.”

“I have pain in my life so what? You do too, my mom…her life is all pain and struggles and she lived through it, you live through it.”

“This isn’t a competition, Bellamy.” she tries again “You can’t compare experiences and how they affect your life. Things should be better.”

“I don’t believe in better, princess.” he simply says “I believe in good. In fine even. In whatever it is out there that makes it somewhat okay for us to live every day in a relatively normal way.”

“And what do you understand when it comes to that?” she wants to understand his point, she does. “Food on the table? Clothes for your sister? Books for school?”

He nods at that.

“Electricity at home. Nothing fucking leaking from the roof over our beds or floor. My mom…being fine.”

“Where are _you_ in that picture?” he shrugs.

“I’ve never really thought about that.” he admits sheepishly moving his head down which makes her lean and kiss his forehead briefly.

“I think it’s normal to want stuff for yourself too. To want to be fed and well dressed, to want to…get a good night’s sleep. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know.” he says honestly “Not really.”

“Why?”

“Because I …am the reason my mom’s so bad right now. Because when she decided to have a kid and gave birth to me she…she worsened her condition. Because I remind her of my father every day and though she’ll never say it I know it hurts her and deep down looking at me is painful. Because he was a good and honest man, they both are and I disgraced them with my stupidity, with my greed, with the monster that I became. Because…oh there are so many reasons why, princess, you don’t even know.” she opens his mouth to interrupt him but he keeps going, he’s on a roll and she can’t stop it. 

“Because if mom had gotten medications before she had me, she could’ve been stable enough later in life and have just one kid, maybe just Octavia and my dad, maybe he would’ve been alive because he wouldn’t be just a poor immigrant man working three jobs and falling off a building getting his head split leaving his wife alone with a one year old. Because my sister…deserves better than me as her brother. Because-”

“Stop it! None of those are true.” she finally finds it in her to break through his chain of self-hatred.

“They are to me.”

“Bellamy, do you know what I see when I look at you?” she asks carefully, gently without expecting a response “I see a hard working son, I see a good and kind brother who always pays attention to his sister, I see a boy that was forced to become a man when he was still supposed to have a childhood.”

She reaches for his hand and moves it up, kissing his knuckles and dragging her finger over the rough skin of his palm, the callouses, the cuts he got at the garage.

“I see this-you giving away your best to bring light into this family. I also see this-she cups his cheek grazes the dark skin under his eye-the pain and I see this-her index finger moves over his lips before she gives him a quick kiss and pulls away before she gets too drunk on the taste of him that she forgets what her point is which is exactly what he would want. 

“All your love.”

“Clarke-”

“You are not darkness, you are light, Bellamy.” he opens his mouth to protest “And I know you can’t see it like that, not today, maybe not in the near future but I do and that’s what matters cause I’ll never stop saying it.”

His eyes fill with tears once more and he moves over to wrap his arm around her back and pull her to his chest.

He holds her like this, hugs her, then kisses her, which gets a little heated and then they are just like this-lazy in bed together, rolling around, taking turns straddling each other while their hands move under their clothes, tease his ribs, her back, his mouth leaving traces on her neck that she knows she’ll be ashamed of especially later on when she has to face his mom, her nose brushing against his while her lips make a trace of light pecks all over his face, trying to kiss every freckle and making him smile, chuckle even. 

She takes her time leaning over him, holding his hand in hers, she liked being here with him like this, her hand brushing away his hair, bumping his nose, poking his cheeks, him being a literal child puffing and huffing as she prods him.

“What do you want to do today?” she asks after they get tired of their semi-childhood semi-heated phase. 

He shrugs, not really knowing what to say as he’s never done one thing for the fun of it.

“Well what did you do on Sundays before?”

Another shrug.

“Hung out with Murphy.” he smiles sadly, the nostalgia of missing his friend evident on his face “Smoked our asses out, wandered the streets, got into some kind of trouble.”

“There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.” he raises an eyebrow and smirks at her.

“Gonna abduct me on an island just so you can make out with me 24/7, huh, princess?” she slaps his chest and he rolls them over so he’s the one looking above. Taking his time to look into her eyes, he leans down to kiss her before turning it into a tickling fight that lasts another twenty minutes.

By the time they make it out of his room, Aurora is already working on the couch, proudly showing him the yellow princessy dress she was sewing for a little girl’s fifth birthday and throwing them knowing looks.

She scolds them to eat before they leave and he asks her at least a dozen times if she’s sure she’s feeling better and if maybe she wants them to stay behind, play cards with them or watch some TV to which she huffs.

“I’m forty Bellamy, not sixty and neither are the two of you. Go out, have fun!”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’re trying to kick us out cause you have something else planned.”

“Bellamy Blake,mind your tongue.” she scolds mildly as he leans down to kiss her cheek and and she admires how good he looks in his winter coat, praising Clarke for her fashion choices once again and thanking her for making her son look like a seventeen year old boy and not a homeless kid.

First they drive over to Sanctum to get Clarke’s car because she insists they can’t do this with the bus as much as he doesn’t like that fact, but he obliges her and once he’s done prodding her with questions upon figuring out that he’ll get nothing out of her, he simply leans back in the car seat, annoys her with changing the radio station every so often and finally leans his head on the window and stares in his broody dramatic Bellamy Blake way.

She doesn’t want to ask what’s going on in his head as she could pretty much guess it all-those nightmares, one couldn’t just forget about them.

He must be reliving it over and over again after having to go through it every night.

She didn’t want to think how hard it all must be but despite the fact that he was she made him smile or at least tried and his mood seemed somewhat uplifted considering the every day grey reality of being a working teenager with a heart disease, he couldn’t hide the tremble in his hands or the dark circles under his eyes or even the way he every so often wrapped his arms over his chest as a shield to protect him from the outside world.

When they arrive at the dog shelter she found online this morning after talking to her mom his eyes go wide.

“What’s this all about, princess? Thinking of getting a dog.”

“I’m not but you are.”

“Come again?” she reaches to cover his trembling hand with hers and rub her thumb over the rough skin. 

“I know that…judging by your fear of doctors and the way things are now…you won’t be willing to seek help from a councilor about any of the things you go through at night.”

He looks down as if ashamed of his own weakness but she squeezes his hand in reassurance.

“Don’t get mad, but I talked to mom” at that his head snaps because he’s well aware of the way things were between the two of them and how rare they actually spoke on the phone “She suggested that a dog could help and I knew you’ve told me before in our letters that you really wanted one as a kid.”

“That’s true but I…I don’t think I can take care of another being like that, Clarke,even if a dog…” he sighs sadly “Not with the way I am.”

“That’s the thing, I think it can help you as much as you can help it.” she nods at the shelter “We can train it together.”

“So you mean like…a therapy dog?”

“In a way, I guess?” he shrugs still uncertain “I think you deserve something good in your life, something to make you happy…other than your mom and sister.”

“And you.” he interrupts her which makes her mouth spread in a warm smile and her heart leap “You make me happy too.”

“I’m happy about that but just think…think of waking up and having a little ball of fur sleeping at your feet or curling up beside you when I can’t be there at night or waking you up by licking your face.” he smiles too, imagining it all. 

“You will have to take them out on a walk but I think this will help you with feeling anxious” she rubs his trembling fingers again “Maybe tire you out and help you sleep better.”

“What if I screw it up? What if I hurt them like I do with everyone?” his voice is small, quiet like a child’s and she bites her lip to prevent her tears from spilling over.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” he huffs, not accepting it as an answer.

“I’ll also be there to help out.”

“You already have enough on your plate” he argues “College essays, keeping your grades up, volunteering at the hospital so you can learn new things…taking care of my stupid ass.”

“All lies. Your ass is not stupid…well, only sometimes. And the truth is…I’ve always wanted to have a dog too but my mom would never let me, so you’d be making my childhood dream come true as well.”

“Come on, that’s probably not even true.”

She puts her hand on her chest dramatically.

“I have my third grade diary to show as proof.”

“You kept a diary, princess?” he jokes, elbowing her in the ribs with an honest happy smile. They both chuckle and when they quiet down and the silence settles in he nods seriously. 

“Okay…okay, let’s try this. I’ve always wanted a dog from a shelter.”

“Good.”

He’s still a little nervous when they make it inside so Clarke does all the talking.

Thankfully, all the people working there seem to be really cool and Luna, the woman who welcomes them seems like a little bit too much of a hippie artsy kind of girl but she’s very gentle and calm whens he explains how things work around the shelter and introduces them to Roan, the guy who owned the place who doesn’t linger too much and seems a tad more serious but still kind. 

Clarke explains the situation after Bellamy gives her a look suggesting that he’s fine with her talking about why they were here as long as there weren’t too many details involved.

“Well actually, we might have just the right dog for you.” Luna explains as she leads them to another hallway and into a bigger room full with more cells.

The scenery makes Bellamy tense and it takes her a moment to realize that he’s probably being reminded of the way he was locked up in juvie so she shoves her hand in his coat’s pocket where it is balled in a fist and intertwines her fingers with his.

He smiles in reassurance but she can see the drops of sweat on his forehead and the heavy breathing and for a moment there she wonders if she did the right thing, bringing him here or if she should’ve done this alone and surprised him.

But she wanted it to be him who chooses his dog, his partner, so there’s a connection between them and though she worries at first, when Luna gives a few suggestions and lets them look around and let the dogs sniff them through the bars, maybe even play with them, she shows them to a corner.

They kneel before a lower cell and in the corner they find a black ball of fur curled up on their own. 

“This is Trooper.” she explains “Half black lab and half…well, something else we’re not sure of. C’mhere boy” she calls him reaching her hand out.

It takes him a moment to walk to her near the light and only then do they look at his cute face. He seems to be all black, big floppy ears, pink tongue that licks Luna’s fingers eagerily and…only one eye.

The left one was just…missing, a patch of what must’ve been stitches long ago, marking a small rough spot reminding Bellamy of the scar on his shoulder. 

“His owner was in the military, really cool guy who adopted him last year. He left him with us before his tour started because he didn’t have any family to take him to.”

“What happened?”

“We got word a month ago that…he won’t be coming back.” one look at Luna’s face is enough for them to understand what she means so they just bow their heads down for a moment and Bellamy swallows hard but reaches for the cell bars. 

“He trained him somewhat so he’s okay with the potty stuff and I think the reason he wanted him was because like you he…struggled with nightmares.” Bellamy pulls his pinkie out at Trooper and the dog sniffs him carefully at first before he licks not just his finger but his entire hand.

Bellamy smiles at that, feels that giddy joyful feeling inside, like tickling, but better, a little bit more lasting…nonetheless good and he knows Clarke made the right choice bringing him here and also that…this was going to be his dog.

“I think Trooper helped him, right Troop?” Luna asks and reaches for the keys on her belt giving Bellamy a questioning look “Think you want to meet him?”

“Absolutely.” Bellamy says and for the first time in a while his voice lacks uncertainty.

Luna opens Trooper’s cage and he jumps outside, happy to be free of his confines.

What makes Clarke smile is that he doesn’t go to Luna or to her but immediately walks to Bellamy who’s sitting on the floor cross legged.

Bellamy patiently offers him his hands to sniff and lick, then when he feels how kind and sad he must feel, he climbs over his lap and reaches to lick his face.

Bellamy laughs, rubs him behind the ears and neck kisses his muzzle and about twenty minutes later they are already in love with each other, playing on the floor, Bellamy rubbing his tummy and Troopers paws up in the air, tongue out.

They looked adorable.

Clarke kneels down beside them and Bellamy who acts as if Trooper has been living with him for ten years rather than realizing the fact they met twenty minutes ago urges him to meet “his princess.”

Trooper seems to like her, licking her fingers as well and letting her rub his ears but he’s smitten by Bellamy.

Whatever happened in that moment, Clarke considered it magic.

Those two just clicked and Trooper could feel Bellamy was anxious, that his hand shook and the moment she completely fell in love with the black lab was when he nudges his hand under Bellamy’s shaking one and then licked his fingers.

It’s in that moment that she knew this might actually work out, they may help each other heal, save each other.

“So how old is he?”

“Two and half” Luna explains watching them with a fond expression on her face “When it became clear that he’s free for adoption-” she clears her throat sadly “we tried introducing him to a few families. Usually labs work great with kids but Trooper is more of a lone wolf.”

“How come?” Bellamy asks next.

“He’s a quiet dog. Barely barks or makes any noise unless someone’s in danger. He likes the peace and silence which is why we put him in this cell, separated from the others.” she explains while Bellamy rubs his back and Trooper climbs in his lap, curling up and resting his nose on his leg. 

“But he likes his walks too and he…well he’s one of those dogs who just…he’s smart. He observes. If you’re in pain he’ll come and try to help, I like calling him an old soul.”

“Just like this one.” Clarke comments reaching to rub the back of Bellamy’s neck. They were two peas in a pod, those two.

“He didn’t work well with families cause kids made him anxious and sad…depressed even. He’d spend the days sleeping so we figured out we won’t push him until the right person comes along.” Luna adds eyes pinned on him “I think that’s you.”

“I think so too.” Bellamy says with certainty. “I really like him.” he turns to Clarke again and she leans on his shoulder.

“I love him too.”

“What happened to his eye?”

“As far as we know from his owner, he was…hit with a metal pipe when he was a puppy.” Luna explains sadly “It’s how he got by him. He saved him from those guys and gave him up in a shelter before one of his tours but when he came back he took him in until he realized he had to be shipped off again.”

Bellamy looks down at him, picks up his muzzle in his hands and looks at the one black eye staring at him with so much sadness, the same one he recognized in himself, but also, hope.

“He’s had it hard, never really having a permanent home for too long.” Luna keeps talking while Bellamy kisses the place above his nose and Trooper jumps over in his lap again licking his face with joy. “When he sees us holding something like a stick or pike or anything like it, he curls up on his own and whimpers quietly.”

“Then we’ll stick to balls.” Bellamy whispers “He likes those, right?”

“They are his favorite.” at the word ball Troopers ears pick up and he looks around desperate to get one. Bellamy’s heart aches, wishing he brought something with him. 

“He’s a tough boy.”

“He really is.”

“I want to take him home.” he tells Clarke and then turns his head to Luna “I want him.”

“I don’t want to be…rude or come out as defensive but you do think you will be able to take care of him?” Luna asks carefully and Clarke knows why. They are young, teens really and it is easy to take up on a dog but then change your mind and bring him back here. 

“As much as I love this shelter I don’t want him to be brought back again in a week or a month.”

“He won’t be.” Bellamy says with determination as he keeps rubbing Trooper’s neck. He’s sprayed out in his lap, happily looking up and licking his fingers “Once we take someone in, they become our family.” he says that looking at Clarke’s eyes which makes her tear up a bit. “And plus I need a boy in my corner with all the girls at home.”

Luna nods happily.

“Good. I’ll print you some additional information about him and we can do the paperwork if you’d like?” Bellamy nods as he stands up but before he does he leans again, taking Trooper’s muzzle in his hands and kissing his head.

“You’re coming with me, Troop.” he whispers “We’re gonna take care of each other.”

They leave in about an hour but on the way home Bellamy insists on passing to a pet shop and spends his last money on getting Trooper a nice red collar and a leash as well as his own water and food bawls and Clarke insists on some toys that catch her eye even though he tries to fight her on it.

Trooper is a little bit stressed at first which is why Bellamy stays in the back seat with him, talking to him and constantly rubbing his ears or belly. It’s a beautiful sight.

He’s a little worried about his mom’s reaction to them going out and coming back with a dog so when they go back to the house they knock and wait for her to answer, leaving Trooper in the car for a second as not to overwhelm her.

“What are you kids doing out here knocking?” she asks surprised and Bellamy and Clarke exchange knowing smiles.

“Mom…we did something.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not a bad something but…it is…maybe a somewhat big deal.”

“Bellamy Blake, what on earth did-”

“Oh god, Bellamy you’re scaring her.” Clarke scoffs crossing her arms over her chest “We got a dog.” she rips the band aid off and Aurora’s mouth drops at that.

“Wh-you…you what?” she doesn’t seem angry, just really surprised and Bellamy steps in trying to explain.

“Look, mom, I know that we already have a lot on our plate but-well, Clarke suggested it and I was opposed at first but I …well he’s great and I know it was selfish but I think I can really use him. And O will like him too I think…but-”

Aurora steps outside and puts her arms on his shoulders upon seeing how nervous he is, giving him a soft smile.

“You won’t have to do anything, I promise. I’ll walk him twice a day, I’ll pay for his food and vaccines and he’ll sleep in my room.” Bellamy keeps blabbering not realizing that his mom is throwing a look at Clarke before tilting her head still smiling “And he’s really great, he is trained and quiet, he won’t bark, he barely barks, his previous owner was a soldier so he’s kind of trained and I’ll keep working with him-”

“Bellamy-”

“I know it’s a lot to sprung on you but I promise that-”

“Bellamy, stop.” she says gently.

“It’s a bad idea, I know, I’ll…if you don’t want him I’ll figure something out.” he keeps blabbering, rubbing the back of his neck and in that moment he looks so young and adorable to Clarke that she itches to touch him but his mom cups his cheeks and forces him to look at her.

“Where is he, Bellamy?”

“In the car.”

“So let me meet him then.” she smiles widely again and gives him a reassuring nod which in turn makes Bellamy ecstatic like a child.

He eagerly runs to the car and opens up the door, leading Trooper out with his new red leash.

Troop was indeed a quiet calm dog and he doesn’t just jump off on Aurora-he’s careful and when she leans to touch him, rub his nose, he sniffs her and then licks her hand which makes Aurora smile too. But his attention quickly returns to Bellamy who he’s already in love with and seeks him, his hands, his love.

“He’s lovely, Bell.” Aurora says “I think he’ll fit right in.”

“You sure?”

“You’ve always begged me for a dog but you were so young and then with Octavia I just…didn’t think we could do this but now I see that maybe we should’ve tried a long time ago.” she rubs his arm “If he makes you happy, then I’m happy.”

“He does. You all do.” he promises looking at Clarke who’s smiling fondly at them too. 

When they go inside they start on making dinner as Octavia would be home soon by their aunt as the weekend was over. Bellamy wants to help them out but he somehow ends up on the floor, playing with Trooper, cuddling with him, fooling around with the toys Clarke bought and overall just having fun.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile like that.” Aurora says fondly looking at him while Clarke passes her the wooden spoon to stir on the beans she was making. “You were right to do this, Clarke.”

“Yeah?” she was a little worried that Aurora might be against it or at least, pull up a fight but she was clearly very supportive of the decision and Clarke thought Troop would keep her company when Bellamy is at work and she’s doing her sewing, so she wouldn’t feel alone even if Octavia was there most the time.

“Absolutely” Aurora promises and surprises her by pulling her in for a short half-hug using the moment to whisper in her ear “I’m so glad my son has you in his life.”

“I’m glad I have you all.” she says with a blush and Aurora cups her cheek and kisses her forehead in a motherly way, making her heart warm and her eyes fill with tears. Aurora must notice that and she opens her mouth to ask her about it but as she does, the front door opens and Octavia bursts in. Aurora has to go talk to her sister for a second and the moment passes.

“Hey, O.” Bellamy greets her even when she drops her bag on the floor with an attitude and takes her jacket off, the same one they saw her in yesterday. He doesn’t acknowledge the little accident that happened, probably never would, not in front of his mom at least, but Clarke knows he’s tense.

“What’s that?” Octavia asks crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Trooper with …what Clarke is surprised to find, disgust.

“This is Trooper. Come say hi.” Bellamy suggests and his sister takes a step forward but he’s still really uncertain and obviously, for some reason unknown to them, grumpy. “He’ll stay with us.”

“He doesn’t have an eye.” Octavia states coldly and Bellamy bites his lip at that. Trooper tries to make his introduction, reaches to lick her fingers but she pulls her hand away and he jumps off back in Bell’s embrace, probably feeling the animosity because that’s what this was.

It wasn’t fear Octavia felt.

She was just…disgusted.

“He’s had an accident when he was a puppy.” Bellamy explains patiently and notices his mom joining them again, obviously having finished her conversation with aunt Leah and not really feeling happy about it if her face was anything to judge by. “But he’s a really good boy, you should get to know him.”

“He’s ugly.” Octavia cuts off “And he’s all black.”

“Octavia, mind your language!” their mom scolds but his sister just huffs annoyed and pulls a chair to sit on, obviously very uninterested in the dog which Clarke can see breaks Bellamy’s heart. 

“O, I thought that…you’ve always wanted us to have a dog.” he says carefully still pretty much half hugging half spoiling the hell out of Trooper who’s having the time of his life in his lap.

“A dog yes. Not…whatever this is.” his sister complains “Why is he here?”

“Octavia, why are you acting like this?” her mom asks really confused with her behavior.

“Because she’s ashamed of how he looks, just like she’s ashamed of me.” Bellamy replies sadly and Aurora opens her mouth to argue but Bellamy just shakes his head and stands up leaving Trooper down to help Clarke set the table.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” he promises “I’m just saying.”

“Bellamy-”

“It’s fine,mom.”

“Why do we have to keep him?” Octavia interrupts them again, changing the focus from the subject as she probably senses her mom won’t let it go till they get to the bottom of it which meant telling her about what happened yesterday which the kid clearly doesn’t want. 

“Because we thought it’d be a good idea to have him around.” Clarke intervenes as well trying to ease the tension. “And you could all have fun together.”

Octavia shrugs and turns around on her chair, waiting for her mom to put dinner on the table.

They sit down, all of them together and they start talking, Trooper curling up by Bellamy’s side which makes Clarke smile-they were already so close and it hasn’t even been half a day.

He sits up when he gets curious about them, sniffs their feet, making Octavia jump and protest about it but Bellamy tries to ignore her snide childish comments, needing a normal dinner with his family for once. 

He doesn’t know what’s really going on but ever since he came out, it’s been on and off with Octavia.

It seemed that in the time he was away, she had gotten used to spending more time with her aunt as her mom was busy with work and there wasn’t always someone to take care of her but she had also fallen in love with that way of life-the way in Hydra.

She had changed so fast for such a short period.

While before when he was still here, she liked spending time there, she never failed to come home bursting with joy, happy to be back whilst now…it felt like she didn’t want to be brought back, asked her mom why she can’t go there during the week or if maybe they could sign her up at school there next year or if aunt Leah can help with her homeschooling too.

They’ve barely spend time together since he came out which isn’t really all her fault-he started working right away but also apart for the moment where he told her a story the night he came home, she has been…avoiding him or giving him and their mom an attitude, talking back and fighting them on every little thing, always starting her sentences with “Aunt Leah said-” which worried Bellamy as much as it angered him.

This was another one of his sins.

This wasn’t just Octavia, it was him as well.

If he hadn’t gotten himself in trouble, if he hadn’t been to juvie, if he had stayed behind and helped his mom and worked honestly…now O wouldn’t be ashamed to introduce her brother to her taekwondo friends or be disgusted by him or his actions.

He didn’t just fail his mom when he chose the wrong path. He also failed his sister, the person he promised he’d protect, keep safe and help raise.

“Octavia, why aren’t you eating?” their mom asks when she notices Octavia’s picking at her food, not really eating the red beans with the chilly sauce Aurora made. It was a simple meal, one they’ve had many times over the years as it was cheap but kept you feeling stuffed for a while, dulled your hunger. 

Apparently his sister had forgotten what that was like. She always came back from their aunt’s house with her stomach full.

“I don’t like it.”

“Since when? Used to be your favorite?” Bellamy asks carefully and his sister pushes her plate away from her deciding to once again show her attitude.

“It’s tasteless.” she spills out “And I’m not hungry.”

She tries to jump off the table and leave but Bellamy upon seeing his mom’s hurt look, stops her.

“Octavia, mom took her time to prepare this for us and you will stay on this table until we’re all done eating.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” he says “What is wrong with you?”

“You’re not my father, you can’t tell me what to do!” Octavia bursts again, jumping off her chair and fisting her hands, face going red “You’re just a criminal and a thief and you work as a mechanic!”

“Octavia, apologize to your brother right now!”

“No,mom,it’s okay.” Bellamy raises his hand calmly, leaning on his chair.

Trooper upon sensing his discomfort moves up and rests his muzzle on his lap to calm him down. 

“You’re right.” he says coldly and Octavia seems surprised at that, probably expecting to get her fight. If she was acting like this as a ten year old, Clarke couldn’t figure out what it’d look like when she was a teenager if she didn’t really get the help necessary “I am a criminal. I do work a simple job, but I am not ashamed of it.”

Octavia grunts at that.

“I take great pride that I was raised by someone who worked hard to keep me alive and fed.” he nods at their mother who reaches to cover his hand with hers “And taught me how important it is to not fear what the world thinks about where you come from and what you do.”

Octavia’s hands fall free at that but she just seems more annoyed than anything.

“Now mom prepared us dinner. Please, come sit with us.”

For a moment Clarke thinks that he’ll be able to pull this off and convince her but then his sister just groans frustrated and runs to her room, pretending to be the one who’s actually offended and not the one who hurt them.

“I’ll go talk to her.” he says already getting up but Clarke interrupts him.

“Actually…if you both don’t mind I think that I have a few thoughts I want to share with her myself.” they both give her surprised looks but after a moment Bellamy nods, because he trusts her.

She rubs his mom’s shoulder and squeezes his when she stands up from her place and heads to his mom and O’s bedroom. 

Once they’re alone, Bellamy finishes off his plate even if he didn’t feel that hungry himself just because he didn’t want to disappoint and make Aurora any more sad than she already was. 

“I’m sorry about that mom.” he finally says when the silence in the room becomes unbearable for him and he looks into his mom’s eyes that are heavy with tears and sadness.

“Why? This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is. I set a bad example for her and I should’ve been there when she needed it the most. All the problems at school and just…everything. You weren’t supposed to do it all alone.”

“Bellamy, I think that she just-” his mom shakes her head “I don’t think that you could’ve done anything even if you were here.”

“Why not?”

“Because when we started sending her off to your aunt she was introduced into this other way of life, one that I hoped she’d get to face and realize when she was a bit older, but…she’s not just an observer when she goes to Hydra. She lives there even if for a few days. And she likes that life better.”

“Mom-”

“And I can’t blame her for it. It is a better life than ours. Your aunt is smart, she has a degree, she can send her off to a good school and feed her better, buy her clothes so that she doesn’t feel like everything she has is a run down from someone else.” his head bows down sadly and he is the one who feels angry now. 

“In fact, she’s offered me to take her in next year, sign her up at school there.” his head snaps at that.

“Mom, tell me you aren’t really thinking about it.”

She sighs and wraps her hands in one another after pushing her still mostly full plate away.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was outraged at first that she even suggested it, angry that she could think I’d send my child to live with her and have her only on the weekends, but…” she runs her hand through her hair in a nervous manner much like his own. 

“Then I sat down with Octavia one evening and started asking her how she likes it when she goes to Hydra, what does she do. And she went into all that detail about her taekwondo classes and the walks she went on with your aunt and all the clothes she bought her or the books. Brand new books, mom, she said then, not from the library.”

He winces at that like he’s been stung. 

“She was so happy, Bellamy. Beaming while she talked. Then she went on telling me all the different food she tried on today or playing with her friends in the park where she doesn’t have to worry about gangs passing through and shooting someone.”

“So-” he swallows hard “You are thinking about it.”

“I think us homeschooling is good for her but it is not the best.” Aurora states calmly “I think she needs to go to a real school, have friends, try to deal with the anger inside her. Maybe part of it comes because of her life here or at least that’s what the councilor told me. The violence around us.”

“Even in our family.” he finishes off what she won’t say “Her brother stole cars and got shot, then was shipped off to juvie. This is violence too.”

“Bellamy, it’s not what I mean.”

“But it’s what’s true.” he sighs no longer angry but instead feeling his bones as if drenched in sadness “I was supposed to be the one to go to college, find a good job, get you guys out of this gutter. Help her have a better life.”

“Bellamy-”

“It’s okay, mom, I know it is what you’ve always wanted for me.” he tries to stand up but she reaches to tug his hand down and make him sit again. “Octavia’s not the only one who’s ashamed of me. I know you are too.”

“That’s not true.”

“I see it in your eyes, mom.” he says calmly and pulls his hand away “And it’s okay, I am too. Anyway…maybe you are right. Maybe Octavia should be better off in Hydra. If you decide to do this, I will support you. I think at least one of us should have a shot at a better life.”

He stands up this time not letting her stop him and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

“Good night, mom.”

He goes to his room and Trooper follows hims diligently, smelling every corner there is, hiding under the bed and then jumping up to sniff around. He settles near Bellamy’s legs and smells his socks making a disgruntled face that has Bellamy smiling.

Clarke’s still talking to his sister at least from what he heard coming from the other room so he picks up his notebook from his hiding place and grabs the pencil he kept there between his fingers and starts writing.

He’s a bit tired and he knows it doesn’t come out as it should but he keeps doing it at least for a while. 

He’s so into his writing that he doesn’t even hear her open the door, trying to scribble down his thoughts, biting his lips, head down so close cause his eyesight has never been the best but once he turned thirteen he simply abandoned them and all hopes Aurora had to make him go to the eye doctor were, of course, fruitless.

“Writing down the great american novel?” her voice startles him so much he jumps in his place and then once realizing it’s her, he gives her a sheepish smile and closes the notebook, hiding it under the mattress.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever let me see that?”

“Not if I can help it.” he blushes a bit and she finds it adorable but when she sits down next to him, he pulls her so they’re laying and kisses her. It turns heated for a second too long, with her straddling him while he teases her with his hands under her shirt, but the beauty of it all was that they could be soft and sweet one moment and sexy and electric the next but they were never in any rush which is what Clarke loved most about them.

“How was it with Octavia?”

“Good.” she says leaning her head over his chest and moving her hand up and down as she listens to his fast beating heart. It made her frown-if he was taking his meds, it was supposed to be slower, calmer, unless he was feeling anxious which after that dinner, he probably was.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me all about it?” he teases her back with her words and she smiles.

“I just gave her my perspective of things.”

“Which is?”

“That money can’t get you everything.”

“Not to you they can’t.” he whispers carefully and she raises her head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to start a fight, it’s just that-”

“Money gives you security.” she finishes and he nods still seriously “But it won’t give you a family. I am the living proof of that. I have all that I want back at home but only when I met you guys, did I realize what it really means to…be part of something.”

“And I’m glad you are part of our family, princess.” he says leaning to kiss her forehead. 

“Speaking of that, what do you want us to do for your birthday?”

“How did that become the subject of discussion?” he groans frustrated as he moves up to get the comforter and cover them both upon feeling her shoulders tremble. “I don’t like celebrating my birthday.”

“I know, your mom told me about it.” she continues ignoring the tone of his voice “But it’s your eighteenth and I really think we should celebrate.”

“I’m fine as it is, princess.” he promises kissing the top of her head again “You all are everything I need. Being here…after what has happened-” he chokes on the words a bit and she reaches to touch his hand and squeeze it “this is the best present.”

She sighs dramatically and he chuckles when he pulls her closer to his chest so that she’s nuzzling her nose in his neck. 

“You won’t just let that be, will you?”

“Well…you know me, Blake.”

“Yes, I do.” he says and for once he feels tired in a way that he may actually fall asleep “I do.”

And he does indeed fall but later at night she feels him shake next to her, wake up violently, probably crying again and she reaches to help him, wants to get up but he shushes her and because she’s tired from keeping up with his insomniac schedule the previous nights, she falls back. She doesn’t know when he gets back, if he does at all but she has to leave early for school the next day and he for work.


	14. The Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Still don't know if anyone's waiting for an update or reading this at all but since I have this whole story written out anyway, I think I should finish posting it.
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe and healthy!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!
> 
> P.S Tags are being edited accordingly!!!

And he does indeed fall but later at night she feels him shake next to her, wake up violently, probably crying again and she reaches to help him, wants to get up but he shushes her and because she’s tired from keeping up with his insomniac schedule the previous nights, she falls back.

She doesn’t know when he gets back, if he does at all but she has to leave early for school the next day and he for work.

The week is busy and she comes by to stay only one of the nights when her dad is out of town again and Aurora had somehow miraculously found out (probably from her dad who she talked to every now and then) and he seems exhausted which probably meant he wasn’t sleeping much again but with Trooper there at least he wasn’t shaking as much and he did say that walking him helped him get tired and fall easily. 

He never mentions anything about waking up at night, though, which is how she’s sure he’s trying to hide it as not to hurt her.

His mom, however, makes him change his shifts so that he’s free on Friday and working on a Saturday, insisting that he has the day off and as much as he tries to fight her about it, he complies because Aurora’s feeling bad again this week and Octavia is for once in a relatively good mood after the talk Clarke gave her so he wanted to keep things together as much as he could.

She easily takes a day off from school herself, senior year and all, with the blessing of her father of course, who upon hearing her plan decided to support her endeavors, so she drives to the Blakes a little before noon after she’s done with all her preparations and finds him surprisingly, still asleep.

“I think he stayed late last night.” Aurora comments when she lets her in “Must’ve fallen around dawn so I didn’t want to wake him up.”

“That’s good. I’ll go in now. You guys all ready?”

“Absolutely.” she replies with a smile and though she seems a little too pale and kind of slow, Clarke hopes she feels well enough for the short trip they’re going to take “Thank you for doing this, Clarke. He really needs it.”

“Thank you for helping me figure it out.”

“For my boy-always.” Aurora hugs her briefly before letting her go to his room and promises she’ll help Octavia get dressed while she deals with dragging him out of bed. 

She had her suspicions that he might be awake but was hiding in his room because he was the kind of person who couldn’t handle any attention directed toward him even and especially on his birthday.

According to Aurora, he got shy and even stuttered and she honestly couldn’t wait to see him that embarrassed but when she goes in there, she finds him actually asleep, curled up on himself on his side of the bed, bare chested and dressed in old baggy sweatpants. Trooper was curled up by his feet and when she comes in he looks up at her with eyes pleading as if he wanted to tell her,

_“Please, be quiet, he hasn’t slept all night.”_

She hates waking him up but she wants him to have, for once, a good day because he deserved it.

If anyone did, it was him.

His big good fucked up heart, deserved a break and she wanted to see the genuine smile on his face, feel his lips, selfishly, on her cheeks.

So she carefully comes behind him, spoons him for a moment and wakes him up by running her fingers through his hair and leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Wake up, birthday boy.” she whispers in his ear and he groans when he hears her, refusing to be brought back to reality, after probably hours and hours of restless sleep.

“Princess?” he finally says and rolls on his back, letting her be the one to pull him to her embrace.

“Hey!” he greets him enthusiastically and when he looks up at her with eyes big and brown and so full of grief and sadness her heart breaks. 

“Happy birthday” she says softly and leans down to kiss his lips.

When she pulls back he’s blushing, just like Aurora said, as a little kid and god, does he look adorable.

He moves up to initiate another kiss and she has to force herself to pull away from him.

“Come on, get dressed, we gotta go.”

“Go where?” he asks confused.

“You’ll see.”

_“Clarke-”_

_“Bellamy.”_

“I told you I don’t want to celebrate.”

“I can’t hear you, Blake.” she sing songs as she stands up and goes to his chair, picking up a few of the new clothes they bought and throwing him in his direction, accidentally covering poor Trooper with his new jeans which makes him quietly bark in confusion that in turns makes them laugh.

“Clarke, mom’s not really feeling that great.”

“She’s all good, we talked.” she promises “You’re not using your mom to get away from your birthday celebration are you?”

He huffs annoyed and sits up, taking off his sweatpants and pulling on his jeans while she tries not to let her eyes linger too long on his almost naked body. 

“We’re all gonna wait for you on the porch, you got five minutes.”

“I need to wash my face.”

“Ten then. Come on, Troop, you’re coming too!” she calls the dog and he jumps off happily but not before he licks Bell’s fingers to make sure he’s fine with him going which, in turn, makes her heart clench.

He does come out in his record seven minutes and his mom and sister hug him in greeting but despite all his questions and prodding about their destinations, all of them just laugh but keep quiet as they pile up in the car.

When they exit the city, he gets a little anxious but not in the bad way, more like in the adorable cute Bellamy way, like he’s looking around frantically, trying to determine where they’re going and what Clarke came up with and he keeps asking but all he gets is their laughs or their snarky responses.

When the ocean appears on the horizon, Clarke wishes she could capture his face if not in a drawing, then at least, in a photo. 

His mouth falls open, his eyes widen and he makes a big childish “Ohhh” that makes them all laugh.

When he looks at Clarke his eyes are full of tears.

“No way.” he whispers.

**_“YES WAY!”_** Octavia excitedly claps her hands in the back of the seat and her mom caresses her head lovingly before she jumps off the car and his mom follows her.

Bellamy and Clarke come out next and before she takes the stuff they brought out, she decides to come by his side.

They’ve stopped on a parking lot just above the beach and Octavia was already running down the path leading there with Aurora following closely behind yelling at her to slow down, wrapping her old coat tighter around herself and leaning on the metal railing because she felt still kind of weak.

“Your mom told me how when you were a baby she brought you out here with your dad. Said it was one of the happiest days of her life, how she dipped your feet in the freezing water and how much you laughed in that way babies sometimes do that’s so cute and adorable and in a way you don’t want to ever stop.”

“She’s told me about it at least a hundred times.” Bellamy whispers back, eyes teary as he stares at the horizon.

It was a cold day indeed, there wasn’t that much sun but though the sky was heavy with grey clouds a ray or two would make their way and graze the beach like a few lonely warm fingers on a cold cheek. 

“I’ve always wanted to come back here, see what it really looked like but I never…we never had the chance.” he sighs shaking his head for a moment before he keeps on. 

“I had all these images in my head, trying to picture myself with them here. Both of them. Dad too…” his voice breaks for a second.

“I’m sure they were happy.”

“I’ve seen pictures. Or more like…a photo mom kept on our fridge for a long while where he holds me in his arms and my little arm is thrown over his neck. We’re facing the sea so you can’t see our faces. Just one big freckled back and two messy curly heads and the ocean….”

She tightens her grip on his arm and when the few tears escape his lips she doesn’t brush them away because she knows he needs to let this out.

It’s pain as much as it is joy.

“I’ve always wondered what our faces must’ve looked like in that moment. Used to close my eyes and picture him. Was he smiling? Was he sad? Nostalgic? What did he feel holding me there as the water beat in his feet? He was the safe haven and I was the kid wrapped around up in his arms. He was a tree holding me steady, in one place. He was a home.”

She gets lost in a way he talks about this and thinks how if he’s that easily describing that, what must his writing actually look like? How beautiful it would be, she wonders…

“I wonder what it was like for mom too. To see us there like this.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No. It’s too painful for her, I know. Every time she looks at me she sees a part of him.” he explains sadly brushing away his tears “We look a lot alike.”

“Sometimes there’s joy and happiness in the sad things too.” Clarke says threading carefully and he smiles.

“Yes. I hope so. I have already caused her enough pain as it is.”

“Bellamy-” she tries to fight him but he shakes his head stubbornly.

“No, this is good. Today will be good.” he insists and she nods in agreement before he leans down to capture her lips with his “Thank you for this, princess.”

“You’re absolutely welcome” she promises with a kiss on the cheek “But we haven’t even done anything yet.”

They get brought back to reality when Octavia yells from the beach and waves at them to “Finally, come already, lovebirds!” which makes them laugh.

He helps her take out all the stuff from the backseat-a few blankets, a basket of food and a beach ball.

Trooper who has been lingering in the backseat as well, comes out running happily, obviously a fan of the beach himself, he runs down the path leading to the others before they join them.

Clarke and Aurora pull out the blanket and the food while Octavia wraps Bellamy up in a chasing game with Trooper running around after them and for the first time since they adopted him, actually playing with his sister.

Bellamy pulls out one of his tennis balls and they throw it around for Trooper who chases it like crazy while O and Bell try to toss it further and further away.

At some point he jumps in the water and though Bellamy calls him out, he seems to be too happy in there to listen for once so he and O join Clarke and Aurora on the blanket and grab some sandwiches.

“I love this kind of weather.” Aurora who’s sitting with a blanket thrown over her shoulders at Bellamy’s insistent look, says smiling “Cold but not the awful biting kind, the just…refreshing one. The grey clouds covering the sharp winter sun so that it doesn’t bother your eyes and the wind…”

“I love the wind.” Clarke agrees and throws a look at Bellamy whose curls are obviously not a fan of it which makes everyone laugh.

“It’s not funny. I can’t see anything!”

“You need to let Clarke trim it for you” Aurora says when she reaches to move a few of them away from his forehead revealing his big brown eyes. 

“Ha! See. She agrees!”

“Don’t be too smug about it, princess. It is still my hair. I should choose what to do with it.”

“We all know you make horrible choices.” Octavia states while biting into her sandwich which in turn makes them all laugh. Trooper has finally come out and when he tries to get rid of the water in his fur, makes a mess of them all, throwing drops all over. 

Bellamy calls him over and he rests by his leg, putting his muzzle over his lap, nudging him with his nose, begging for an ear rub.

“He’s in love with you, Bell.” Aurora says when she looks at them fondly.

“Best birthday present.” Bellamy comments “After this one of course.” he reaches to briefly squeeze Clarke’s hand and she leans into his side much like Trooper. 

“Mom, how many times have you been to the ocean before?” Octavia figures to ask as she herself moves closer to her side and seeks her embrace. Aurora throws the blanket over them and pulls her to her chest with a fond smile.

“Many, actually. I used to live with my family in a town near this place, not so far from here.”

“Really?” Bellamy asks surprised. “You’ve never told me that.”

“Yeah, it was until I was maybe…ten, just like you-” she says picking O’s chin up “It was my mom’s house. Dad and I used to come out here at least once a week. He loved the ocean, the waves.”

“What would you do?”

“Nothing much. He’d just let me climb on his shoulders and take a walk.” Aurora’s eyes fill with tears from the memories “I used to point somewhere at the horizon when I saw a ship, usually a war one. There were many back then” she absentmindedly runs her hand through O’s hair.

“But because he used to be a soldier, I figured with time that…he didn’t like those, so I’d point at the seagulls or a bigger wave or a cloud that looked like something funny to me just to see him smile.”

“That sounds great, mom.” Bellamy says and Aurora smiles softly.

To think that there was a whole life out here that she lived with her family, a life where she was a girl, young and free of any pain, happy and normal-climbing on her dad’s shoulders and trying to make him laugh.

All of it, makes Bellamy wonder how much more he doesn’t know about her and what she’s been through and he makes a mental note to ask her about it.

Both her parents died before she gave birth to him and he had seen a picture of them, again, only one, but he was eager to learn and maybe write down more. 

“Why did you move?”

“My father got redundant and my mom was struggling with her job as well. Seamstresses were paid even less back then.” she explains staring at the horizon ahead this time, getting lost in her thoughts. 

“So they decided to move and because they couldn’t afford to live anywhere too fancy, they sold the house they had here and with the money bought the one we live in now.”

“In Arkadia” Octavia whispers.

“Yes.” Aurora nods in agreement.

“But didn’t you miss it? Being away from home?” his little sister asks eagerly again and Bellamy can see the contradiction happening in her own little self, the choices she was trying to make, the pros and cons she was probably coming up with between their home and his aunt’s. 

“Oh, I did. I cried so much every night. I’d hide in my room, cover myself with the blanket and cry myself to sleep. I tried to hide it from my parents, my dad most of all, but he knew and one night he came in, peeled my blanket up and just held me. He wouldn’t say a thing-he just held me and when I looked up at him with sleepy eyes I realized he was crying too.”

“He missed his home as well.” Bellamy concludes and Aurora once again smiles sadly.

“Enough of this.” she waves her hand “Come on, let’s do something for fun. We’re celebrating my boy’s coming of age.”

“Moom” he groans hating that he’s being reminded of his birthday again but when he sees she’s serious about this he simply groans and rolls his eyes. 

Aurora calls Trooper up and Octavia and Clarke follow swiftly by.

They take turns throwing the beach ball between each other, playing a sort of a very messy variation of dodge with all of the girls attacking him and Trooper who was out of his mind happy and by the end was so exhausted he simply dragged himself by the blanket and collapsed there.

Aurora herself gets tired too, so Clarke helps her settle back down but when she’s about to join her again, she feels strong arms wrap around her legs and back and she yells when he picks her up bridal style.

“Bellamy, oh my god, _WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”_

“It’s not a trip to the ocean unless you get wet, princess!” he says and while she kicks and hits his chest trying to get away from his grip, he simply laughs and with his bare feet and still new black jeans and white t-shirt, he walks right in the water, waves crashing into his knees.

“Bellamy, it’s cold! Come on, you’ll get sick!”

“Will you stop worrying for once, princess?” he huffs as he goes deeper inside, the water almost reaching his waist. “Come on,live a little!”

“Bellamy, this is bad! It’s freezing out here!” she keeps on, her arms wrapping tighter around his neck as her fingers feel the splashes of the cold water. 

She yelps when he stops and lets a wave hit her feet, actually jumping in his embrace, making him laugh.

“Bellamy Blake, bring me back outside, _RIGHT NOW!”_

“So the princess hates the water then?” he jokes when he holds her tight and leans to kiss her nose which makes her settle a bit. “Huh?” he dips her again and then pulls her right back up “Admit it, princess!”

“No!”

“Hmm, maybe I should let you in for a swim, what do you say?” he jokes pretending to almost drop her, letting her body fall in the air for a second before he quickly picks her up and moves her so that the wave doesn’t get her whole back and butt wet. 

“Bellamy! Bellamy,please!” she looks actually scared and he laughs for a moment before he starts pulling away back to the shore.

“You really hate this, don’t you?” he asks nodding at the waters and she shrugs sheepishly burying her face in the crook of his neck “Why?”

“The ocean is big and vast and… ** _fucking scary, okay_**? It’s so…much, you can go in and never come out of it and no one will ever find you. It’s just a lot!”

“Sooo that means Ariel was your least favorite princess when you were a kid?” he says pretending to be buried in thoughts while she tugs on his curls as punishment for his joke.

“I never even saw _The Little mermaid_.” she admits sheepishly and he kisses her forehead gently, no longer teasingly.

“For a person who hates it you sure chose the perfect place for a birthday celebration.” he whispers nuzzling his nose into her once again making her heart grow sizes. “You didn’t have to, Clarke.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to.” she promises cupping his cheek and meeting his lips for a gentle kiss.

If it was another day, maybe even another time she’d tell him that nothing was as scary, not even the ocean, as seeing him toss and turn in bed in pain, mumbling pleads and begging for someone’s life or his own, struggling to catch his breath, to rest and sleep. 

After she just rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes, simply letting herself be in his embrace and of course she hated looking at the ocean as it really, truly scared her but hearing it and his heartbeat that somehow trumped in the same way with the waves, both things weirdly synchronized with one another, calmed her anxious self down and she just drowned in the sound of his heart beating with every ocean that hit his legs.

He was her tree in that moment, he was her strength even if most times he claimed he was always the one to lean on her but he was wrong.

Without him, she’d drown herself, she’d be buried in a life she hated, doing things she despises, she’d be without love, without softness or kindness around her.

She’d be without warmth.

And though his body and his fingers were so usually cold because his heart refused to push the blood all the way to every corner of his being, somehow now, his touch was actually warm and she felt herself free…invincible even, as impossible as that should be, especially for them.

She wasn’t fooling herself.

This, now, it was great, it was perfect even, but at some point in the near future she’d have to leave for college and the thought alone, scared her to death because she didn’t want to leave him behind and she had no idea what they’d do.

He had to work, stay behind and take care of Aurora and his sister. And what would become of them?

They were a tree with a bird perched on a twig, or more like curled up in between the leaves and branches but she’d have to flow away and he’d have to stay firmly put behind.

“What’s on your mind, princess?” he asks with a kiss on the forehead when he feels her get too buried in her thoughts.

She opens her eyes and flashes him a fake but big smile that she hopes he’ll buy.

“Just thinking how you should get me back to the shore already.”

“Okay.” he whispers and it’s so soft it breaks her heart “Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

How he could be the softest boy on earth and then the most teasing asshole on the planet was beyond her.

She slaps his chest and he chuckles but remains strong as he brings her back and puts her on the blanket next to his his sister who was so tired and full, she was falling asleep curled up next to their mom.

Thankfully the wind had quieted down and the sun was soon to set, grazing the shore with its beautiful rays.

He doesn’t let go of Clarke unless he’s sure she’s covered up in a blanket herself and his mom who was holding up the old Polaroid she had dug up at home that he wasn’t even sure worked anymore, smiles at them and waves a small piece of paper.

“I think I captured the right moment.” she tells him, handing him the photo that’s just him holding up Clarke and the grey-blue ocean hitting his legs and the sky somehow so perfectly mirroring the water only just a tad big lighter.

His black curls of course, moved by the wind but her hair, which was hanging off his arm as he held her, was somewhat up in the air too and it made them look like two tiny flags of black and yellow announcing their presence to the universe while being strongly grounded to the shore. 

He looked so big and strong holding her up like that, his body half hidden in the ocean, wetting his black jeans, his white shirt mostly dry wit a few drops here and there and his big strong arms, his back, muscles defined by hard work and fighting demons that want to kill him, his hair a declaration of love and joy desperate to spill kindness and softness in the universe.

God, she loved him, she thought as she looked at it, her eyes lingering a little while longer on the photo while he fixed the blanket on her shoulders and pulled her to his chest for a second, kissing her cheek.

“Thank god you never caught my face. I hate photos.”

“Of course you do.” Clarke huffs but keeps staring at it “Thank you, Aurora.”

“You’re the most welcome. Now come on, son-” she reaches her hand out to him “Take me to the water as well.”

“It’s too cold, mom.”

“I think giving birth to you on this day eighteen years ago beats it so come help me out.” he sighs at her stubbornness, mumbles something about it under his nose which makes her give him a look suggesting.

“Are you really going to talk back to me right now, Bellamy Blake?” which of course shuts him up and he takes her arm under his and slowly they make it to the water.

She’s weak today, way too weak for his liking and though he loves the fact that Clarke took them out here, he wondered if maybe they could’ve done it another day when Aurora was feeling better.

She should be home, in bed, getting rest.

She was way too wobbly on her feet and her hands were dead cold, worse than his even.

On the way there her breathing gets more shallow and she struggles to pull air in so they stop a few times so she could catch it.

“Maybe we can just go home, mom.”

“Your worry won’t take this away from me, kid.” she waves her hand at him “You maybe eighteen but I’m still the one in charge.”

“Whatever you say,mom.” he says with a quiet sigh and once they reach the waves, he helps her take her shoes and socks off and once she steps in the water, she winces as if she was burned by the cold but a second or so later, once her body gets used to it, she smiles, closes her eyes, and leans into his shoulder.

He wraps his arm around her tiny tired back and takes a moment to cherish this simple time where he got to be a kid again being side by side with his mom, watching the waves hit their bare feet.

“This is really beautiful.” she says when the sun really starts to set and paints the sky every warm color there is even now, in the winter. 

“It is.” he agrees. “We should come here more often.” his mom nods, leaning deeper into his chest probably because she was tired.

“It gives me solace that you have her.” the change of subject makes him furrow his eyebrows and when he looks down he finds her still staring ahead “Clarke.” she says upon feeling his confusion. “I used to be worried you’ll bear it all alone, taking care of me, your sister but now at least I know that you have her to talk to, share some of the burden with.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“When you love someone, it’s not called dealing, my boy.” she says gently cupping his cheek “It’s called sharing a life.” he listens carefully to what she has to say, sensing that it’s somehow important “Like the waves beating on and crashing in the beach.”

“So life’s the beach and we’re the waves then?” 

“No, life’s the ocean and we’re all lost in it but we all eventually come back home to the earth and find our own peace.”

“What if we don’t come to it at the same time?” he says voice breaking with fear.

“So what? Your dad died before his time. Before our time.” she whispers and leans down to touch the small wave hitting her toes “Doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving him.” she reassures with a gentle smile “And plus one day I’ll join him too, so I was never worried about that part.”

“That’s not happening for a while.” Bellamy says wrapping both his arms around her and holding her tight. 

“Oh, my sweet boy.” she smiles “Don’t be afraid. It will all work out.”

“I don’t like you talking about yourself dying. Especially on my birthday.”

“You hate your birthday so don’t give me that excuse.” she scolds him mildly and he chuckles “But okay. I won’t talk about that.”

“Good.”

“You know even though you hate it it was still one of the best days of my life.” Aurora continues as they watch the sun sink lower and lower, getting swollen by the ocean, as if they were standing mere feet from the edge of the world and if they came closer they could dive in and get lost in blue, orange, yellow and red and though it may be vast and scary, they’d be up to it because it’s who the Blakes were and it is what she taught him. 

“My water broke in the worst possible moment.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I was at work, we had an hour in left of our shift and your dad was away on a construction an hour out of town.”

“You never told me that.”

“I doubt any boy wants to know how their mom gave birth to them.” she jokes and he chuckles but squeezes her shoulder.

“Well I do.” he assures “I’m a weird boy.”

“No, you’re a smart one.” she promises “Anyway, well my coworkers helped me to the hospital, actually my boss, she was really cool, she drove me there herself and my friend stayed with me for as long as the doctors would let her. I was so scared. You were coming a bit earlier than we expected and I was feeling all dizzy and light. My head was full of all the wrong thoughts my heart was beating out of my chest, my blood pressure was high sky and the doctors didn’t know what to give me to calm it down in a way that won’t slow the process of you coming to us or hurt you.”

He swallows hard, hating himself for being the reason that she was in so much pain.

“That doesn’t sound like a good day at all,mom.”

“It was hard” she admits “But it was good. And you were so eager to come out but I felt so light headed I was afraid I’d pass out and won’t be awake to welcome you into the world. I was so worried.”

“So what happened?”

“Your dad came just a few minutes before you were born.” she smiles at the memory “You should’ve seen him bursting in, dressed in those blue scrubs they gave you, but underneath the mask I could see his face covered in dust from the work-his face was red and sweaty and the nurses joked I looked better than him and I was giving birth.” he chuckles at that. 

“I held his hand so tight, he had bruises after but when I felt at my worst he talked to me, whispered to hold on, to just keep up a little while longer.” she shakes her head fondly “The machines were beeping up all around us, the nurses were pumping something in me to help my BP go down and just when I thought that this is it, I won’t be able to go through with it, you cried out.”

She looked up at him with warmth and fondness again.

“It was such a quiet cry that for a moment I worried I didn’t really hear it at all.” she smiles “Even then you cried just so barely as if you didn’t want to bother us with your presence” she cups his cheek “Like you don’t want us to give all our attention to you now, still, to this day.”

“Mom-” he looks away shyly blushing. 

“You were the sweetest boy and your dad was in awe with your hair. His eyes were big and wide and when they put you in my arms, you just so barely cooed and buried your head in my chest.” she continues.

“So you see, it might’ve been one of my most painful days but also it was one of my happiest. Holding you in my arms, your dad leaning over me, crying worse than you had, his tears falling on your head making a mess…I’ll never forget it.”

“Thank you for giving me this life, mom.” he whispers “Thank you for raising me the way you did.”

“Could’ve been better.” she is the one to look down this time.

“No” he shakes his head “I couldn’t have asked for anything else. I’m proud to be your son.”

She leans on his chest again, letting him hold her there while the waves keep beating in their legs and he shivers, feeling a bit cold especially after dipping himself half in the ocean when he carried Clarke.

“It feels like it was only yesterday when you were a baby and now…you’re all grown up. Eighteen years old.” she shakes her head “I can’t even believe it.”

“I’m not that old.” he jokes when she starts pulling him away and they make their way to the shore.

“No, but you have been through more than other kids your age have.” she says seriously when she struggles to catch her breath so they’re forced to stop again.

He hates that he’s seeing her so weak right now, on a day they were supposed to be happy, to celebrate, even if he didn’t particularly want it, he wished for her to smile, to be happy and light.

But instead she was in pain.

_Again._

Sometimes he got so tired of it. All the pain around him-his mom, his sister, even Clarke who’d try to keep it to herself but would still cry after one of the conversations with her mom.

He didn’t give about the pain inside him at all.

He could bear it, carry it or at least if he sucked at that, pretend that he could, but them…seeing his mom struggling to breathe, her eyes droop, her body refusing to cooperate, it make him lose all hope that there was good in the world.

That the pain eventually faded, that it got better.

When, he used to ask himself before when he was younger and his mom told him it’d be fine, it’ll take some time but things will work out.

He’d ask her, when and she’d say soon, but with time he stopped believing it.

He didn’t ask anymore.

He saw no point in it.

In juvie he came up with the conclusion that he just had to take it and deal with it as best as he could-if Emerson beat him, he’d withstand it and lick his wounds later when he curled up in his cot, with the other boys fighting him, he’d kick back until he passed out and again, just take it.

None of it hurt as much as seeing the sadness or disappointment in his mom’s eyes or the loneliness in Clarke’s. 

When they approach the others, Bellamy gives Clarke a look and she understands him without any words the moment she lays eyes on Aurora.

She quickly scoops Octavia up and he gathers all their things before they head back to the car.

“We could’ve stayed a bit longer.” Aurora chides mildly from the backseat but he shakes his head when he looks in the rear view mirror and finds O’s still sleepy figure resting on her lap.

“The sun has set and it’s getting colder. We should head home.” Clarke adds when she turns on the engine and takes off.

On the way back Bellamy keeps thinking over and over his mom’s words about the day he was born, tries to imagine how happy but also how scared she must’ve been, what his dad’s face really looked like and at the memory of his mom describing him all covered in dust and red faced he smiles. 

Leaning his head on the window like that, he starts dozing off, quite exhausted after catching just a few hours of sleep after sunrise and running around with Trooper and his sister on the beach.

He can hear Clarke talk to his mom somewhere in the back but he can’t make sense of the words so he lets himself get lost in his thoughts and fall if just for mere fifteen minutes after they enter town again.

Clarke’s the one to shake him back to the real world and when he rubs his tired eyes he hears his sister and Aurora opening the back doors and letting Trooper out of the car.

“Hey, you okay?” Clarke asks gently, resting her hand on his neck and rubbing it tenderly. The movement makes him want to fall asleep again but he knows that this time, when the night actually comes, it’d be anything but peaceful.

“All good.” she tilts her head to the side as if she knew he’d say exactly that and he smiles apologetically at her.

“How have you’ve been sleeping this week?”

“Better.” she raises her eyebrow “I’m not lying. It is better.” he insists “Troop really helps. Sometimes I wake up and if it’s not too bad, I fall again with him curled up next to me.”

“So he’s the big spoon now?” she jokes “I’m kind of jealous.”

“He’s the little spoon.” he corrects her “And no one could ever replace you, princess.” he kisses his lips and feels the warmth spread over him once again.

“Come on, we should go inside. We’re not done yet.” she whispers when they pull away and his face falls as he groans at her words.

“Really? Did I ever mention to you how much I just hate my birthday?”

“Multiple times over the past week. I still refused to listen to you.”

“You never do.” he mumbles under his nose and she chuckles at his expression but joins her out of the car and into their house where O and Trooper continue on their play in the living room.

His mom is nowhere in sight at least at first but then she comes out of the kitchen and leans onto the door frame while they are talking to his sister and Bellamy’s about to join her and the dog in their play, being the child that he is. 

“Bellamy” she calls him just when he’s about to sit down “Come here.”

He sighs, blushes as if he’s sensing that whatever’s coming is probably going to make him feel even more embarrassed but Clarke and O jump on their feet as well and then they stop him for a minute before he enters the kitchen doing whatever they were inside.

He stays there with his back to them, as per their instruction and Troop sitting by his side looking at him with one eye in utter confusion.

“Don’t look at me, boy. I have no idea what they’re doing either.” he sighs and because he does feel a little anxious, not the bad kind but just…anxious, Trooper must sense it because he shoves his head to his hand and basically forces him to pet him which helps Bellamy breathe a bit easier.

He hated it when he got like that feeling.

What was so bad about his family giving him something or trying to surprise him?

Why was he brain like that? Making him shake and feel like he’s the most horrible person in the world who didn’t deserve to be hugged or kissed or just loved?

And worst of all, why did it make him shake like a leaf? Or breathe like he had just run a marathon? Or made his heart trump so damn loud? 

Why couldn’t he be a normal boy that didn’t wince when his mom’s hand ended up on his shoulder and pulled him around?

She leads him in and because she must feel his anxiety, she wraps her hand around his and pushes him to keep going, reminding him that everything’s fine and there’s nothing for him to worry about.

Except he couldn’t command his brain to listen to that fact.

Still, once inside, he finds the kitchen dark and Octavia and Clarke holding up a big home made chocolate and vanilla cake-his favorite-that his mom made for his birthday every year, no matter what. 

The words _Happy Birthday, Bell_ were written in blue icing with probably Octavia’s help, considering how messy but still childish and cute they were.

There were the numbers 1 and 8 pinned in the bottom and they all began singing to him, making him blush so hard, he felt like he’d pass out if it wasn’t for his mom’s hand on his.

He reminded himself to just take this because it’s people’s way of showing him their love and in a minute or two just when his mom forced him to sit down on the central place on the table and they put the cake down before him, he had mostly calmed down and just let himself enjoy this. 

For them, he told himself.

To make them happy.

“Make a wish, Bell!” Octavia clapped her hand excitedly and he closes his eyes for a minute, trying to figure out what he wants to wish for.

But inside him, he finds nothing he desires for himself.

What could he want? For the nightmares to stop? _They probably never would._

For his sea of sadness to calm down? _That was a given for him from the moment he was born._

For his anxiety and his fucked up heart to find peace? _They would never._

So he opens his eyes and instead looks at all the people around them and realizes they are what makes him happy, they are what makes him, truly him.

So he wishes for them instead.

For his mom to feel better, not so wobbly on her feet or pale as the sheets on her bad. For her condition to stabilize not for weeks but for months so he could make her proud again, so he could show her he works hard and he’ll do his GED and then maybe one day…sign up at the community college.

For Clarke to never know loneliness again. For her to always feel safe and content in his arms. To get accepted wherever she wants.

For his sister to find her place in the world. To go back to school, a real one and have friends. To be a truly happy kid, having everything her heart desires.

He blows the candles and they all clap at him as if he’s done something truly amazing and not the most simple of things. He laughs at their enthusiasm and they all pile up to hug him, first his mom then Clarke and only after, Octavia jumping in his lap with Trooper excitedly trying to join them, not really understand what the fuss was all about but desperate to give all his love to his owner the same as everyone else was.

“Come on, oh, okay, that’s enough, mom!! Clarke! Come on” he tries to fight them but they all wrap him in their arms, kiss his cheek and head or even tickle him a bit (that’s his sister while Trooper licks on his bare feet toes which makes him jerk and hit his knee in the table almost knocking the cake off on the floor.)

Finally, they all settle down and his mom cuts a peace for each of them. Before they start eating, however, they exchange knowing looks and take out three wrapped presents from underneath the table.

“Oh, come on! We agreed no presents.” he feels the redness creep up his cheeks again.

“You talked but we didn’t listen.” Clarke announces with the brightest of smiles before turning to his sister “O, you go first.”

“But I thought the clothes-”

“Bellamy, let us do this, please.” his mom says calmly covering his hand. He rolls his eyes but with one last dramatic Bellamy sigh, he finally relents.

His sister sits on the chair and pushes a small package in his direction. 

“Happy birthday, big brother.” she says leaning in to kiss his cheek. When he unwraps it, he finds a nice blue beanie and a pair of gloves.

“Your fingers are always so cold. I thought you could use it.” she says with a shrug “Clarke helped me pick the colors so they match your coat.”

He smiles and puts on the beanie.

“Plus now you could hide that hideous hair of yours.”

“Octavia!”

“I’m just saying,mom.” his sister raises her hands in the air in defense and they all laugh. He can’t see himself with it but judging by Clarke’s smug expression, she’s happy about their choice and she finds him attractive which again, makes him blush.

“It’s perfect, O. Thank you so much.” he didn’t have it in his heart to tell her that his fingers would always be cold from now on, that no glove could ever fix it or warm up his heart but he refuses to cause her pain, not after she put so much effort into this, probably buying it with her own savings. 

“Mine is simple and hopefully…practical.” Clarke pushes in her package and he opens it up with trembling hands which proves to be a challenge because she wrapped it really well and his mom has to help him out while they all joke and make fun of his inability to ever accept anything for himself.

He finds a beautiful blue notebook and a nice black pen attached to it and it’s so perfect that he takes a moment to drag his index finger down the cover and pull the black band keeping it together to reveal the white pages. 

His heart trumps in his chest.

“Oh, princess.” he mumbles and looks at her, simply at a loss for words.

“I think you need to write down all your ideas in something better than random school notebooks or pieces of paper you found. You should have something nice to put it down on, something…yours.”

“I didn’t know you were writing again?” his mom asks but she’s not offended just curious. His sister had talked about the story he wrote her as a present after juvie but she probably thought it was a one time thing and he sure tried to make it look so.

“I’m just…putting random words down, mom, I wouldn’t call it writing.” she shakes her head at his words before she turns to Clarke and gives her a grateful smile.

“This was really smart of you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“And I thought I was the one who could never take a compliment.”

“Pshh, it’s your birthday.” he chuckles at her face and the way she waves her hand in the air refusing to admit she did something truly awesome so he stands up, circles his mom and leans over to wrap his hands around her neck and kiss her cheek.

She easily falls into his arms and for a moment it seemed like his world was so easily one again that when he pulls away, he feels somewhat empty.

“Okay, my turn.” his mom’s the smallest package, just a simple stylish grey one with a nice silver ribbon.

When he picks it up it feels somewhat heavy in his hand and it makes him furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Mom, what did you do?” he asks with worry but she shushes him and makes him open it up. 

He finds an old blue square box and he knows this is something…else, something different and probably expensive and he’s ready to fight her when he opens it up and finds a watch.

It’s beautiful yet very simple-the surface of it was old, that’s for sure cause he could see a few scratches here and there but the black strap was brand new. The numbers were simple gold but big enough for him to see with his fucked up eyesight and when he picks it up in his fingers he feels a different kind of warmth.

“Mom-”

“It used to be your father’s.” she says and when he meets her eyes he finds the tears already streaming down her face. “I found it again recently when I was cleaning up some of the boxes upstairs in the attic. It had stopped working, was even wet probably because of the roof leaking over that particular box so I decided to fix it and change the strap.”

“Mom….” his voice breaks as his eyes fall on it again and his finger moves up and down over the face of it, imagining his dad wearing it on his wrist and looking at it while working, waiting for the time to pass so he could come home and be with his wife and child.

“Thankfully, it started working again.”

“This is…a lot. Are you sure that-”

She covers his hand with hers and squeezes it tightly.

“He’d wanted you to have it.” she assures “I know because he told me so one day when he was holding you in his arms on the couch and I was working on my sewing. He said he’d want to give it to you when you turn eighteen.”

Bellamy’s own tears threaten to spill so she reaches to cup his cheek.

He’s still speechless and so stunned at that that his mom has to take it out of his hand and put it on his wrist. He keeps looking at it, watching the hands move, the number change and he smiles but also feels his chest heavy.

They get onto eating their cake but he’s so lost in thoughts, he barely touches it, his eyes always inevitably falling on the watch, making his face twist in sadness.

His mom must notice because she gives Clarke a look and she takes O and Trooper back to the living room where he hears them turn the TV on.

“I thought I’d make you happy, but I feel like I…made things worse instead.” she says when he keeps his head low, still buried in thoughts. His voice and her touch on his shoulder startles him so much he almost jumps.

“Sorry, I…I love it mom, I promise.” he says quietly “I just don’t know how much I deserve it.”

“Of course you do.” Aurora insists and he shakes his head.

“I tainted this family.” he whispers and when he meets her eyes she sees tears of anger there. Anger directed to no one else but himself. “My father wore this watch as an honest man. You…you’ve worked hard all your life, had me, raised me despite everything, then gave birth to O and made a strong kid out of her. All I did was ruin my life and cause you all pain.”

“Bellamy Blake look at me.” she says voice stern and when he refuses to comply she picks his chin and forces it up “I don’t know what got into that head of yours, but I am not and have never been ashamed of you”

“You don’t have to do this, mom. There’s no need to reassure me.”

“I’m not. I mean it. _I am proud of you, Bellamy_. I know your dad would be too if he was here.”

“What’s there to be proud of? Me dropping out of school? Stealing a car and getting shot? Getting locked up before I’ve even turned eighteen? Working a job as a mechanic and getting minimum wage?”

“When you look yourself in the mirror is that what you see?” she asks demanding an honest answer and he just shrugs looking away but her grip is still on his chin and she forces him to look at her. “Well, it is not what I recognize when I look into your eyes.” she continues “I am so proud of you, Bellamy, I am sorry if I ever gave you another impression.”

“You can be ashamed of me. Octavia is. I am.”

“But I’m not.”

“Mom, I know I’ve disappointed you.”

“If I ever felt disappointed it was always directed at myself.” the words make his head snap and look at her surprised “If you failed to do something, it was on me. Bellamy, you were a kid. Still are more or less. I should’ve protected you better, made sure you never got involved with that woman, kept you safe and away from her.”

“It’s not your fault.”

**_“It is.”_ **

“No, mom, I made a choice. And I have to live with it for the rest of my life, but this isn’t on you.” he insists “I promise, it isn’t on you.”

She sighs and pulls her chair closer so that they’re next to each other and she can wrap her arms around him and push him to her chest.

“That day…” she whispers “when you were born, your dad and I we took turns holding you into our arms and marveling at how beautiful and perfect and ours you were. But I never told you how scared we were.”

“Why?”

“Because we wanted the best for you and we worried we won’t be able to give it to you.” she moves a few curls away so she can lean down and kiss his forehead “We made a pact, that no matter what happens, we’d never let you get hurt like we had. We vowed to give you a better life than the one in Arkadia.”

“It’s okay, mom.” he tries to soothe her.

“Oh, I know it is. Because though we mostly failed I still believe things will work out for you.”

“Mom, I’m happy like I am now.”

“No, you’re struggling now. I know it and I can see it. You don’t sleep do you?” she asks and he pulls away from her embrace, staring down at his hands and the newly added watch on his wrist “You have nightmares?”

“Did Clarke say anything?”

“She didn’t have to. I may be sick and weak but I still know when my own child is in pain.”

“I’ll be alright. Just have to get used to it.”

“You should never be used to pain.” he sighs at her words and feels her hand on his chin, picking it up again. “I need you to make me a promise, okay?” he gives her a light nod because she’s waiting for him to prove that he’s listening to her and not just getting lost in his own thoughts again “I need you to keep fighting for yourself no matter what.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. Don’t just okay me to shut me up. I need you to keep fighting, okay? I want you to go back and do your GED, I want you to take care of your health, get your medicine and go to Jackson for check ups.”

“Mom-”

“I need you to listen to Clarke, love her and let her love you because you _deserve_ love, alright?”

Why did this feel so damn heartbreaking? So much like a goodbye. He hated it. 

“I don’t want you working too hard either. Eight hours is enough, I don’t want you taking extra shifts or finding second and third jobs.”

“But-”

“Bellamy, promise me.”

“Mom, _I can’t_.”

“Yes, you can. Come on.”

“But…I want to find another job too.” he sighs quietly and when he meets her angry look he relents, knowing he won’t win this battle so he just sighs and nods, finally giving up.

“Okay, I promise.” she hugs him again, wraps him tightly around her arms and kisses his head more than once.

“I’m proud of you.” she whispers in his ear “I always have been and I always will be. You’re the best son a mother could ask for and when you look yourself in the mirror I want you to see see a strong badass kid who works to keep his family together and loves with his whole being.”

“Thank you,mom.” when they pull away he can see how tired she really is and while his head was resting on her chest, he could hear the slow beating of his heart. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

She agrees, for once without fighting him which scares him some because she always insisted on pulling up a fight but they stand and make it to her room though by the end when they reach the door he has to wrap her up in his arms and carry her inside since she’s very tired.

He doesn’t know this would be one of the last times he tucks her in, helps her get water and take her medicine.

He has no idea it’d be the last time he leans down to kiss her forehead goodnight but that even after he turns the lights on, he’ll stay by the bed, sitting on the uncomfortable chair until she fell asleep.

He has no idea that the next day he’d wake up too early for work and find her asleep on the couch, probably after she herself woke up before dawn and worked on this birthday dress for the girl, before she got too tired and passed out.

He doesn’t realize he’ll have a really busy day and come home later, after dinner to find Clarke cleaning up the dishes, his sister already asleep on the couch.

That really last night he’d go into her room and find her curled up on her side of the bed, with the blankets off to her waist so he’d pick them up and fix them, he’d look at her face and find it too pale, too tired and in her sleep, he’d fix the blankets under her head and move her up a bit so she’s breathing easily and feels more comfortable.

He’d tell himself on Monday he’s driving her to Jackson and getting her admitted in a hospital no matter what because this is the worse he’s seen her in a while.

But he doesn’t know that weeks later he’d still be blaming himself for thinking he could wait till Monday.


	15. Three weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: !!!WARNING FOR MINOR character death!!!
> 
> Okay, I am not sure what to say here. It's kind of a painful chapter so...I hope you'll...enjoy it still? Or at least not hate me too much!
> 
> You can yell at me all you want, I'll probably deserve it.
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

That day he first wakes up when he hears his mom and his sister talk in the living room.

She was probably getting O ready for her aunt, who wanted to take her out to the town’s fair and then the movies like she had promised her apparently weeks ago.

He hears them talk in the hallway, distinctly recognizes his sister’s protest about something, fighting their mom on not wearing her hat and Aurora scolding her that it’s too cold out.

He thinks that he should get up and help his mom, make sure O behaves, because he knows how tired Aurora was, how she barely stood on her feet and he was reminded of those months ago before he met Clarke, when she spent all her time in bed.

But Clarke’s wrapped really tightly around him, spooning him and holding him close and he is really tired after waking up in the middle of the night from his nightmare but when he hears her snore behind, he feels all warm and good and he tells himself he’ll just be another ten minutes.

He’s not in any deep sleep, that is what he hated about it so much later on.

He was in that state of being half awake and then also pulled down by the tiredness of his own body.

As if he was floating in the middle of the ocean, letting the waves pull him further and further from the shore, but not being afraid of it.

_How stupid he was._

He should’ve been afraid.

He hears the door open, voices talk, his aunt’s and O’s excited one, his mom’s tired whisper as if she was a ghost, just barely there.

And he tells himself he’ll get up, he even tries to move, drag himself out of his sleepy state, but Clarke’s grip on his is too tight and he lets himself fall back into into her soft chest.

In her own sleepy state she moves her small hand up and down his chest, her lips brush his neck and he tells himself he’s allowed to feel good, especially after everything he was forced to relive once again last night.

And then the smell of something burning wakes him up with a start.

He doesn’t sense it’s something wrong right away but when it fills the air around him, he shots up sitting and looks around sleepily.

“Clarke!”

Something was wrong, very wrong and he reaches for the pants he’s thrown on the floor last night, pulling them over his boxers and throwing the door open, not waiting for Clarke to follow him as if he wasn’t even sure she was actually awake being the heavy sleeper that she was.

There was smoke but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was and for a moment he believed he’d just unnecessarily panicked-the air was stiff and the kitchen was dimmed when he rushed in but nothing was actually burning.

“Mom!” he yells “MOM WHERE ARE YOU?” he calls out but Aurora’s nowhere to be seen.

In his panic, he notices briefly the breakfast she had already put on the table-some scrambled eggs and bacon, just the way he likes it but when he leans down and checks the stove, where all the smoke was coming from, he finds a bunch of already burned out cookies inside and he opens it up ignoring the pain in his hand when he touches the heated the handle.

_“Mom!”_ he yells once more.

Dammit where was she?

He grabs a cloth from the counter and pulls out the cookies, throwing them in the sink and pouring water over them.

He quickly opens the window above it to let fresh air in and then turns around, hoping to find his mom already inside, feeling stupid for making such a mess and apologizing for forgetting about them.

She must’ve gone out to get something, he thinks when he doesn’t find her anywhere around but there’s a feeling at the pit of his stomach and his hands shake so hard that he can’t get rid of it no matter how he tries to clench them.

“Mom! Mom, where the hell are you?” he calls out, checking the living room in case she fell asleep there again but returning to the kitchen upon finding it empty.

Then he remembers the backyard where she recently started spending more time on, sitting on the rocking chair he had made so long ago, as a fifteen year old boy, sewing the clothes she had to mend to get the money they so desperately needed.

Only last week he scolded her when he found her there again, not wearing a coat or anything to cover herself with, so he had brought in her blanket and wrapped it tightly around her legs before giving her his jacket to keep her warm while she finished her work.

She had been so tired, so pale, he had no idea how she even found it in herself to work at all. But she had still smiled sadly and squeezed his hand in gratitude before promising she’ll be inside in a minute.

He heads there now and before he even opens the door, he sees her arm loosely hanging off the handle of the chair.

For a second there, relief floods over him and he opens the door with a swing, stepping outside.

“Mom!” he says hopefully and when he turns to face her, he finds her body slumped on the chair, head thrown back, eyes closed, face pale, no…blue.

The shirt she was sewing, a blue plaid one-his own that he had torn at the garage the other day, had fallen on the porch.

“Mom!”

_She’s asleep_ , he thinks.

_She’s just asleep._

He’s seen her like this a hundred times, passing out after having a really tiring day.

_I’ll just shake her shoulder and she’ll wake up,_ he thinks.

He leans and grabs her slim arm, doing just that.

“Mom, wake up, you left the stove on!”

But she doesn’t react.

“Mom, wake up, come on!” he begs and he feels the tears threatening to spill over.

_No, she’s okay, she’ll wake up any minute now._

**_”MOM!”_ **he yells this time, grabbing both her arms and shaking her hard but her eyes never open and he tries to bring her up but her body only slumps forward to his, lifelessly, completely motionlessly.

He cups her cheeks and feels the cold run down his own spine.

No, it’s just the weather…she should never go out here without the blanket, he has told her that a hundred times.

“Mom, please wake up! Mom!” his voice breaks now “No, mom, come on, you’ll be fine, come on!” he begs and shakes her once more, desperately wishing she’d just open her eyes “I got you, mom, I’m here, I got you, don’t worry.” he says and picks her up in his arms, quickly swiping her cold limp body in.

“Hey, hey, no…no, mom no….no, don’t, please-” he begs when he tries to move her head to his chest except it lolls back again and he has to put his hand on her neck to steady it over his still beating broken heart.

He knows it…he knows it but he doesn’t want to accept it.

“Mom, you’ll be okay….you’ll-I….mom-” he keeps rambling and when the door flies open and Clarke comes out, wearing his blue shirt and her cute unicorn PJs.

When she sees them there, she freezes and he looks up at her, eyes wide open, tears streaming down, falling over Aurora’s cold face. It takes her a moment to realize what’s happening too, the lifeless body in his arms, the way her arms hung unnaturally, her mouth open just barely, eyes closed.

“Clarke-” Bellamy whimpers and she covers her mouth with her hand.

“NO!” she cries out too but craws next to him, taking her hand in and checking for a pulse.

She shivers when she finds none.

“Clarke, I think she’s just…she must’ve passed out, she’s okay, she’ll be fine-” he rambles, it’s the words of a man refusing to accept that his mom was gone.

He cries, he sobs, and both his body and hers in his arms shake so hard.

“Clarke, please-” he begs and she knows he’s asking for help she can’t give him, today.

She couldn’t save Bellamy Blake this time.

So she reaches to her neck, fingers trembling, checking once again what she already knew but realizing that he needs this, he has to know, to be sure, have someone else confirm what deep down he was already aware of the moment he stepped out on the porch.

When she finds nothing, she bites her lip, looks down and shakes her head.

He’s waiting for her reaction and when he finds it, he cries out, no, screams out and it’s ugly, guttural, coming out from the bottom of his wounded soul.

A boy who lost his mom.

A boy who just became an orphan.

He buries his head in her chest and cries, shaking so hard that Clarke’s afraid any moment now, he’ll literally burst into a thousand pieces or pass out. She tries to stand up but she can’t. All she can do is kneel there and take Aurora’s hand in hers, rubbing her thumb up and down, knowing she can’t soothe her, can’t do anything really, but just be there because even if she no longer was.

She doesn’t know how long Bellamy cries but eventually he tries to swallow it down and looks up.

“We have to go inside.” he mumbles “We have to…I, we need to bring her inside.” Clarke nods, realizing that they have been out here on the back porch for a long while now and though their house was the last in a long line of rows and that most of those surrounding them were empty, Aurora and her son needed their privacy.

“You think you can stand?” she asks and he nods, still crying, still sobbing but trying very hard to get himself together, to bite it down, to swallow it whole.

He shouldn’t, Clarke thinks. He can’t.

If he does, it will kill him.

He stands up, swaying on his feet but steadies himself fast and she opens the door for him, following him quickly inside.

He quietly carries her to her bedroom and places her down, pulling the blankets up but covering her with them when he adjust her lifeless cold body in a position that makes her look like she was still alive.

Clarke thinks that if she could turn back time to just a few months ago, she’d come in here and see her asleep, put a cup of tea on the nightstand for her and then leave so she could get her rest.

Hours later, she’d emerge and her and Bellamy would be playing chess on the kitchen table, bickering over something. She’d pass by and squeeze Clarke’s shoulder, then come to Bellamy’s side and lean to kiss his cheek and stroke his head. He’d make a comment about not being a kid to which she’d respond with her usual “You’ll always be my kid and I’ll always be your mom even when you’re sixty and I’m eighty, I’ll still worry about you.”

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut and feels the tears stream down her face.

She’ll never see Bellamy grow old.

He’ll never have the chance to take care of her when she’s eighty and knitting on the back porch while her grandkids ran around the backyard, screaming and yelling out of pure joy.

When she opens her eyes again she finds Bellamy kneeling, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.

He can’t seem to stop crying and when she comes by and sits beside him, embracing his body with her arms and pulling his head to her chest, his voice comes out strong.

“We need to…we have to call Jackson, he needs to-” he chokes on the words, simply unable to comprehend how someone will stand in this room and officially declare his mother dead “and then we have-”

“Shh, I got it.” she promises and kisses his head “Let me take care of that. You just…you stay here as long as you need.”

“Octavia, she’s with aunt-” he keeps on. Clarke knows what this is-he’s shutting himself off, feeling immense pain but also realizing that this is it-she’s gone and now he had to step up and do all these things.

He had to bury his mother.

“I’ll call your aunt and we’ll decide what to do.”

“I’ll tell O” he whispers, voice cracking “I’ll…it has to be me.”

“Okay. Let me just deal with Jackson and the rest of it, then we’ll call your aunt and have O brought in.”

She makes a move to stand up but he grabs her hand and and pulls her back down, her covering him while his body still shook so hard.

“Not…yet, please.” he asks and lets her pulls his head to her chest and hide his wet face in his shirt. He hasn’t stopped crying, not yet. She doubts he will soon “When you call them…it will be…it means it’s over.”

It already is, she wants to say but can’t. She can’t break him anymore than he already is and she realizes she doesn’t even realize the extent of his state right now, only knows he’ll get worse before he gets better. But she’s willing to hold him here for as long as he needs to.

He breaks down in her arms and she rocks him back and forth but his good hand, his right one, the one that wasn’t maimed by bullets or hurt by awful guards, was still holding onto his mom’s white wrist, gripping it tightly.

“She’s still…warm.” he whispers in a moment and Clarke swallows hard when her eyes fall on Aurora Blake. She thinks how in the short months she’s know her, the woman has been more of a mother to her than Abby ever had. How she held her and supported her, how she showed her the right way to stitch a torn up sleeve or make the perfect mac and cheese. Hold when Clarke came home worried about her college applications but trying to hide it because it seemed nothing compared to their problems, Aurora sat her down and made her tell her what’s wrong, then assured her they’ll be stupid not to accept her but still let her freak out for a moment before she pushed her to her feet and forced her to make cookies.

They had filled the house with laughter and when O came home and joined them too, they had a fight in the kitchen, tossing flour and dough everywhere, having the best fun.

“Three weeks.” Bellamy finally lets out, shivering in her arms once more and she pulls away to look down at his broken face “I came out…after almost three months and I got her for just three weeks.” he cries and Clarke pulls him back to her chest again. “If I hadn’t been so stupid…if I hadn’t got myself caught.”

“No! Don’t go there. Not now, Bellamy!” she picks his face in her hands and shakes her head “Don’t” she begs him whispering and he nods, agreeing with her.

“Come on, we should call Jackson.” she nods, but leaves him stay with her a little while more while she goes outside, closes the door and dials him.

She doesn’t expect her voice to break as much as it did when she told him the reason why she needed him at the Blakes.

Neither is she ready for the deafening silence that follows on his end until he finally speaks up and promises, he’ll be right there.

When he comes in, Bellamy’s still sitting on the floor but this time his face is buried in the bed next to Aurora’s hand and it looks to her like he’s a little kid, looking for his mom to stroke his head over one last time, begging her to wake so they could go out and have an adventure.

Except Aurora’s hand remains motionless.

And his tears refuse to dry.

He’s so shaky on his own feet, the exhaustion and the pain at the loss of his mom finally taking its toll on him that when Jackson helps him up, he has to steady him and push him into a chair before he falls down.

Clarke suggests they leave him alone but Bellamy shakes his head. He stays there, hands holding each other, limp in his lap and watches Jackson pull out his stethoscope and confirm what they already knew.

He still sobs when the man comes by his side and grips his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy.” he nods, grits his teeth, tries to hold himself together and swallow it down.

“Was she in…was she in any pain or do you think-” he asks voice trembling.

“It was fast.” Jackson reassures “Judging by her condition, I think her heart just stopped.”

“So no…no pain then?” Bellamy asks again, squeezing his eyes and Jackson grips his shoulder harder.

“It was more like a flash of lightening that struck her. Her chest hurt for a moment but then it was…it was over.” Clarke has no idea how Jackson keeps his voice calm and even, it must be the years of practice he’s had but when she comes closer to Bellamy and places her hand on his back she can see the doctor’s eyes glistening with tears too.

“Why do you think it happened now?” Bellamy asks next, desperate for answers that Clarke wasn’t sure he needed to hear right now but then was there ever again a time to do this.

“Well you know this isn’t an exact science, Bellamy.” Jackson says sadly “She’s always been aware of…the way things might go.”

That she will die sooner rather than later, Clarke thinks and Bellamy tenses under her grip.

“She was bad the other day…on my birthday. Couldn’t walk….had trouble breathing. I forced her to rest in the evening…I..I thought that if she just got some sleep it’d be fine and then I heard her talk to aunt this morning and I-”

“You did your best.” Jackson reassures.

“I should’ve brought her to you.”

“Bellamy, even I couldn’t have prevented this and I think that she…” she takes in a deep breath “She died at home, doing what she loved most, with her family in the other room. I don’t believe she’d prefer it if she was all alone between four walls in a hospital.”

Bellamy nods, but Clarke can see the guilt crushing him. His own face is pale and his breathing comes in so shallow, she’s afraid for him. She’s afraid something will happen to him as well and she wants to ask Jackson to check up on him, she’s willing to force Bellamy, tie him up to a bed if she has to, but he simply gives the doctor a sharp nod and stands up.

“What now?” he asks voice devoid of emotion again, his arms crossed over his chest. Jackson explains he has a friend at a funeral home. He’ll be here to take her in and prepare her for the funeral…wherever they decide that should be.

Clarke follows Bellamy to the kitchen where she makes some tea while Jackson helps him out with the details.

She also calls her dad, knowing that they needed an adult, a real one, to help them do this.

Bellamy was so lost and heart broken he had no idea what was happening, simply doing things on auto pilot so when Jake comes by twenty minutes later, he hugs him, eyes also full of tears because he’s gotten close to Aurora in the past few months, then pulls up a chair and gets down to it.

An hour later, Aurora or more like…Aurora’s body has left her home in a hearse, after Bellamy, Jake and Delilah, that was the name of Jackson’s friend, had talked things over.

Bellamy also asks for her opinion on matters and she’s there to help him out, giving in advice and asking questions he probably wouldn’t have thought of in the moment, being too shaken by it all.

There was no reason to delay the funeral too much as there was no extended family to visit. There was a distant uncle who was in the military but Aurora hasn’t spoken to him in over twenty years.

It would be just Bellamy, Clarke, O, Jake and their aunt. Maybe some of the friends from the sewing company she made over the past few months, Jackson promised he’d come too but that would be it.

Finally, when they are done with that, Jackson leaves for his shift at the hospital and her dad goes to organize a few more things for the wake, whispering in her ear that he’ll be back later to bring them food and ask if she needs something else from him to which she just shakes her head sadly.

Once alone, Bellamy goes to his room and calls his aunt. It takes shorter than Clarke expects and when he comes back to the living room and sits on the couch, she wraps her arms around him.

“I’m okay.” he says and she’s surprised when he tries to pull away from her.

“Bellamy-”

“I can’t break down now, not before Octavia comes home.” he says quietly “I need to be strong for this.”

“Okay.” she says understanding and removes herself away from his rigid body. “Can I at least hold your hand?” she asks, tentatively raising her fingers, hovering above his before he gives her a nod and she intertwines them together.

He’s stopped crying somewhere along the way.

She doesn’t know if it’s when Delilah comes and he doesn’t want to show his weakness or share his pain with anyone else or if it happened after Jackson explained how she died which seemed to completely destroy him.

Ten minutes or so later, the front door opens and they both shot to their feet.

Their aunt, a woman Clarke had seen a few times before, comes after O’s burst through the door, seemingly grumpy and annoyed, her back pack swaying on her slim shoulders, her hair pulled in a tight braid which Clarke realities must’ve been Aurora’s doing this morning and her heart clenches.

Aunt Leah, Aurora’s sister was younger than her but bore similar features.

She had that same black hair and pale face, those deep brown eyes that Bellamy inherited as well, except no matter what, she could never look so worn out of life like Aurora had.

Her hands didn’t bear the marks of hard work like Bellamy or Aurora’s had and she was wearing nice clean freshly ironed clothes.

Clarke thought that though their features may carry some resemblance, they were nothing alike. Leah was, as far as Clarke could tell from their brief encounters, colder and stern, her heart, Aurora said, was good, but she was carrying the tragedy and sadness of her husband’s passing for so long, it seemed to have become one with her.

Her face was twisted in pain now but she wasn’t crying and her eyes were clear.

Octavia throws her bag and jacket on the floor and crosses her arms over her chest as Bellamy comes closer and kneels before her.

“Why did we come home so early? I hadn’t even tried to ferries wheel yet!” she complains but Bellamy just pulls her in for a hug and holds her close.

O’s impatient, like any kid who got their Sunday morning ruined after having preparing for it for so long, and she quickly pulls away from his embrace.

“Octavia, I have to tell you something.” Bellamy goes seriously, trying to keep his voice even and Clarke takes a step forward to them, not hovering but still there in case he needs her.

“What?” O says angrily, stomping her foot on the floor.

“It’s about mom.” Bellamy puts his hands on her arms and squeezes hard. “She’s gone.” he’s decided to rip the band aid fast, get this over with because if he waited any more he might not be able to say it out loud at all.

“Gone where? Is she asleep in her room again?” Octavia asks still angry but her face falls a bit in confusion “Mom! Moooom, I’m home early!” she yells at the door but no one comes out.

“Octavia…she’s dead.” Bellamy forces himself to say and Clarke watches as their aunt whimpers and turns her back on them, the first human emotion she’s seen out of the woman.

Clarke forces herself to stay in place.

She sees Octavia’s brows furrow, her arms fall and when she looks into her brother’s face, actually looks at it for the first time since she came home, she realizes something’s very wrong.

“Wh-what?” she asks confused “No, she’s here. She promised to make me pancakes for dinner today if I’m good!”

“Octavia, her heart..it gave up. She passed away.” Bellamy tries once more but his sister pushes his chest and he falls back.

“NO!” she cries out now _“YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE A LIAR!”_ she yells and before they can stop her she’s running to the bedroom and opening the door up.

_“MOM! Where is she? Where’s mom?”_ she asks when they rush in there and find her climbing on the bed, pulling the blankets off as if Aurora could magically appear from under them.

As if this is just a trick and she’d come out from the kitchen carrying a tray of pancakes and laughing at the stupid joke she pulled on them.

“Octavia, come here!” Bellamy comes and tries to catch her but she’s faster and she pulls away, turns to him, hands bawled in fists and cries out.

_“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MOM?”_

“Octavia, mom’s gone.” Bellamy tries again “Please, come here.” his voice breaks now, finally, his resolve shakes but Octavia’s anything but calm.

She rages and tries to flee him and finally when he grabs her wrist and pulls her to his chest, she keeps kicking so hard he almost drops her.

She cries out, breaks down, finally letting it sink in, but her lips never stop whispering one word over and over.

**_“Mom, mom, mom!”_ **

Her fists hit Bellamy’s chest so hard, Clarke’s afraid she’ll leave bruises and she tries to intervene but he simply raises his hand in the air and shakes his head, stopping her.

He got this, he could deal with it.

Once O’s done, she collapses in his arms and he holds her in his embrace, her tiny arms are wrapped around his body like a monkey and she cries and yells and asks over and over why mom isn’t home, she promised she’d be home when O came back with her aunt and Bellamy is forced to repeat over and over the simple truth that their mother was **_irreversibly, inevitably gone_**.

She falls asleep in his arms out of exhaustion but wakes up an hour later and it all repeats-she runs to their mom’s room and tries to find her.

When she can’t, this time, she doesn’t hit Bellamy, she just starts taking things and tossing them on the ground, breaking vases and cups of water and tea their mom never got to finish.

Before they can stop her, she in the kitchen, where Clarke had moved the plates of breakfast Aurora had prepared on the counter because Bellamy simply couldn’t look at them while he talked to Jake and Delilah.

Now Octavia stretches her arm out and with one big swipe she pushes them down on the floor and starts jumping on the food, yelling.

_“She’s not gone! SHE IS NOT GONE!”_

“Octavia, stop it!” Bellamy tries to wrap his arms around her and pick her up but she elbows him in the face with all her ten year old strength that bore the primitive anger of an animal who got lost in the forest all alone without their mom in the middle of a storm and he stumbles back, falling on the broken glass and cutting both his hands.

“Octavia, don’t, you’re hurting him!” Clarke tries and their aunt comes in the room too.

“She’s hysteric. We need to do something.” she tells Clarke when Octavia turns around and jumps at her brother again.

“You hurt her! You are a criminal, you hurt mom and she’s dead because of you!” she kept angrily crying and trying to hit him but he just grabs her arms and this time uses his own strength to lift her up, his hands both bleeding over her little ones and put her on the table.

Octavia keeps tossing and screaming and then his aunt’s voice cuts through the air.

“Octavia, stop this!” she says coming by Bellamy’s side and for once…his sister actually complies “I know you’re scared, I know you’re in pain. Your mom is gone and it will hurt you for a long time, maybe even the rest of your life. But you need to be strong now, okay?” she says putting her hands on her arms. “You have to be strong for her and for your brother but most of all…for yourself.”

Octavia keeps crying but this time she’s no longer yelling, instead her head falls and she lets her aunt pick her up.

Bellamy’s too stunned to do anything, but judging by the way he looks at them, Clarke knows what he’s thinking-he couldn’t calm his sister down, but their aunt stepped in and did it.

Once Octavia mostly passes out in her arms after she keeps walking around in the kitchen whispering things they can’t always make sense of in her ear, she comes closer to Bellamy.

“I think I should maybe take her home with me.”

“I…I don’t know, aunt Leah.” he was torn, he wanted to keep her close, be there for her, go through it with her like they were supposed to, side by side, but on the other hand he was clearly unable to help her out, being too broken himself.

And maybe he needed to be broken, Clarke thought, he needed to feel his grief and go through this in his own terms, but she knew him.

He’d worry over Octavia too much and bury himself in action-figuring out all details for the funeral, cleaning up and fixing the house for the wake and in all that he’d build the walls and forget about himself.

Maybe it’d be better if O was with his aunt, at least until the funeral.

“I don’t want to let her go. We should stick together.”

“She’s angry and she’s lashing out and honestly, she’ll probably need me to take her to her councilor. She won’t be able to deal with this on her own.” his aunt insists and after a moment he sighs and gives her a nod.

“Until the funeral?”

“Yeah. I think she’ll need a few days to come to terms with the fact that her mother is gone.” Clarke can’t say she’s not making sense right now “So will you.”

Bellamy nods and finally agrees, coming to rest his hand on his sister’s back and leaning to kiss her forehead after brushing her hair away.

“Keep her safe, will you?”

“You know I always do.” his aunt promises and he helps them gather most of O’s stuff, put her jacket on while she remained asleep and then help them to the car.

When he comes back, he’s barely holding onto his feet but he wants to get on things right away just like Clarke thought he would.

That first night is the only time he lets himself actually feel bad. He cries a lot and walks around the house like he has no idea what he’s doing.

He tries to fix her bed but he breaks down in the middle of doing it so she takes his hand and leads him outside, finishing it up herself.

She takes her time to cry too, because this hurt her so much.

In the past few months Aurora had become important to her, more of a mother than her own ever was, and while she washes the cups of tea and glasses of water, she turns the tap on so that the water goes faster and he won’t be able to hear her.

She knows she doesn’t have much time to break or even the right to-this was his mother and he had loved her and tried to keep her healthy and safe for this entire time but despite his efforts, she had died and he was the one to find her.

While she cleans up the mess Octavia made after breaking all the plates and glasses, she remembers she never patched his hands up, so she goes to the living room but doesn’t find him there.

For a moment her heart leaps in her chest but when she opens the front door, she finds him on the porch putting on his new boots and throwing his new coat on.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk.”

“Bellamy, I don’t think-”

“Please, just…I want to clear my head a bit, okay? I’ll be back in like an hour.”

She doesn’t want to let him go but he doesn’t actually give her a choice, rushing down the few stairs and quickly walking away.

Logically, she knows she should’ve followed him or at least made him take her cell in case he has to call home needing help but he disappears into the night while she leans there on the door frame completely stunned.

An hour passes, then two, then yet another one and she gets so worried, she’s about to call her father and ask him for help when the front door opens and he stumbles inside barely holding onto his feet.

“Bellamy-”

She rushes but she’s not fast enough and he still falls on his knees before she can catch him.

When she turns the light on and picks his face up she finds it beaten-blood was ticking down his nose and a cut on his forehead has covered half his face red, his lips were busted too but the worst was his eye,the same one that still hadn’t healed, which was red and swollen shut.

He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes-his coat is covered in blood and a little too ruffled probably from the fight, his white t-shirt was red in the middle like someone cut his body open and found nothing inside because that is how he must’ve felt right now.

She doesn’t scold him, can’t fight him, not when he’s like this and he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, she just helps him up to his feet and drags him to the couch where he tries to sit and stay like it but instead sways violently once again and falls on his back with a groan.

She finds a pillow to put under his head and when his face falls to the left she leaves to grab the med kit she brought here months ago and finds him crying.

“It smells like her…” he whispers when his one good eye opens and looks at her with shame and sadness.

Clarke curses under her nose and tries to carefully move his head up and take it off so she could get him another one but he grabs her wrist and shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay.” he promises but keeps crying.

She had never seen anyone cry so much, not even her dad after their mom broke his heart repeatedly, coming home drunk and passing out in the hallway and her heart breaks at the sobs that leave his mouth.

Just as she’s about to start cleaning up the blood from his face…she realizes that maybe it’d be better if she helped him shower instead of just patching him up like this.

Carefully, she drags him up into a sitting position and starts taking his clothes off. He’s only half there. A part of him is mumbling incoherent things and trying to reach for his coats pocket because he apparently needed to smoke.

She has to wrap his arms around her neck and half drag him to the bathroom where she helped him get rid of his jeans and socks too, leaving him in just his boxers, before putting him sitting on the toilet and turning on the water.

“Clarke-” his voice breaks again but with recognition this time and she turns around to find him leaning his hands on his knees and struggling to breathe while his tears kept rolling down his cheeks “I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

She quickly recognizes the signs of a panic attack.

He was short of breath and sweating, his heart was racing and his hands were trembling, so she does the best thing she could come up with-she grabs his hands and helps him into the bath tub but instead of increasing the hot water, she turns the cold one on, to help bring the feeling back to him, shock him to reality.

Of course she can’t risk getting him sick or leaving him there on his own so she climbs in with him, holding his hands and forcing him to breathe.

“It’s okay. It will be alright.”

Empty platitudes that none of them believed but that served not as promises, more like as a mantra to repeat over and over until his breathing calmed down.

When his eyes gain back some of the recognition, she turns the hot water back again and his body stops trembling as he relaxes into the tub and his whimpers quiet down.

Her hand moves over to his neck when she checks his pulse and leans her ear over his chest to his lungs which are now finally letting him pull some air in. His hand holds onto her other one and his tears finally stop.

It’s in that moment that his body completely gives up.

He goes motionless and numb and she doesn’t know it yet, but he’d remain like this for days, even weeks to come.

He let’s her clean him up then-scrub his face off all the blood, wash his hair, soap his back and chest, his legs and feet. When she gets out of the tub she tells him she’s changing herself and bringing him his PJs and leaves him to finish up cleaning himself which he does mechanically and without a thought.

When she comes back she turns around while he puts his clothes on and forces him back on the toilet seat.

“Time to get this over with” she says when she picks up the scissors and he nods in agreement.

She cuts his hair in silence and he bows his head down watching the curls fall on the white old tiles that he promised his mom he’d change the following summer.

His heart aches with all the things she’ll never get to see or do. All the promises he made to her that now felt like dust thrown to the wind-none of them mattered anymore, none of it really did.

She was gone and that was it.

It’s where the story ended.

Clarke’s quiet and methodical but at some point, she starts humming this calming melody and it is when she picks his chin up to fix the curls on his forehead that he lets his eye linger on her face, finding it broken and tired much like his.

This shouldn’t be on her-taking care of him, helping him when the world fell apart. It should be him dealing with it on his own, not causing her any more pain than what she already had.

So when she picks the razor and smears the white foam on his beard, he takes her wrist in his and gently pushes her away, standing up on wobbly feet and leaning on the sink.

“What are you doing?”

“I can shave myself.” he whispers and it comes out ugly and hoarse but he must’ve truly underestimated himself because when he moves his hand to raise it to his face, he loses his balance and staggers on his feet. On top of that his fingers shake so hard, he drops the razor making him curse.

“Don’t do this.” she scolds, leaning down to take the razor and easily pushing him back on the toilet “Don’t push me away.”

“I-”

“It won’t work, Bellamy.” she cuts him off a little harsher than she probably intended “We won’t be doing this.” she repeats and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it briefly “So don’t even try it, alright?”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight her so he lets her take the razor and shave him, thinking how in another time, maybe even just a few days ago, this could’ve been funny, he’d have teased her, maybe if his mom was home too, she’d pass by and tell him to cut it off and listen to her.

He’d fool around with Clarke, put some foam on her nose and tickle her ribs until she caved and he took her in his arms, then leaned down and kissed her. 

But now he stood motionless, eye closed-the other one trumping so loudly as if his heart had moved there. It hurt him and he couldn’t for the life of him open it up. 

The thought that he had once again failed his mother passed through his head-he’d go to her funeral looking like he had been beaten up to a pulp and the truth of it was that he had-he went out there tonight looking for someone to kick the crap out of him which is why he went into that bar and after more than a few drinks, started out the fight.

But of course he hadn’t thought of the consequences this would bring, of the fact that he’d have to stand by his mother’s grave and talk while people looked at his red blue face and his swollen eye.

You couldn’t hide who you are, he thought to himself and despite what you thought of me, mom, I am a monster.

Clarke shaves him very fast like a pro which he assumes she was, considering he’s seen her shave her legs. “Girls know more about this than boys” she’d told him when his mom first picked the subject of him shaving and he had to agree.

Usually, he’d leave at least a cut or two while doing that but now when she helps him stand, makes him lean over the sink and washes his face, he stands up to face his perfectly shaven face.

Moving his head around makes his eye hurt even worse and she notices it because she forces him to go back to the living room, helps him down and finally gets onto cleaning all his cuts and bruises. There’s not much she can do, not about the swelling anyway, but after sanitizing them she pushes him down and brings a bag of frozen peas for his eye which hurts more than his ribs or his shoulder which he used to throw punches with on purpose just because he knew it’d get numb and hurt him.

He passes out that night-no dreams or nightmares-just sleep and wakes up to the smell of bacon, eggs and Trooper who was sprayed on top of him.

He had completely forgotten all about him the previous day, letting him spent most of it in his room or the backyard simply because he didn’t have the strength to take him out on a real walk.

He didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. Looking at his one open eye, Bellamy saw nothing but worry and he wondered if he felt his emptiness, his endless sadness.

The smell makes him go back a day ago when he woke up and found his mom dead and his eye fill with tears.

When he gets up on his feet, he sways and his head hurts but most of all his swollen eye. 

“Morning.” she greets him probably having heard him wake up and when she sees his hand on his face she worriedly pushes him down and picks up his chin, moving his eyelid down to check it out. 

It was red and ugly inside, he knew, he saw it in the mirror last night.

“This doesn’t look good.” she comments worriedly and he hates that this is what they’re thinking about now “How well can you see me? 

“All good.” he lies. In truth, she’s more than blurry, there’s even a corner there that seems like it’s completely black but he can’t care. “What’s the time?”

“Seven.”

“It’s Monday. You need to get to school.” she shakes her head stubbornly and he stands up, taking her hands in his.

“Clarke-”

“No way, Bellamy, I’m not going to school after what happened yesterday”

“You mean after mom died. We can say it out loud. It is what happened.”

“No, I don’t mean just that. I mean after…this” she cups his bruised cheek and he winces, throwing his head away. “I can take a week off. Jackson can write me a note.”

“No. You can’t. I know you have your presentations this week and the AP Bio and Chemistry tests. This is important” she opens her mouth to argue “You have to be there, do this, grades matter even after you’ve sent your college applications.”

“Bellamy, there’s no way on earth I’m leaving you.”

“Yes, you are. I have to go to work and talk to Sinclair, ask him for the week off, buy a bunch of stuff to make this house look somewhat presentable for the wake. I have a roof to fix and a room to paint. I should go to the church, talk with the priest about the ceremony.” 

Aurora had been catholic, born and raised but she never imposed her believes on her children. She was a different kind of Christian, not like those fanatics you usually see on TV. When he was a boy, she’d take Bellamy to church at least once a weak, not always on Sunday, actually, usually not on Sunday. She liked it when it was peaceful and there were less people in there. She’d stay and listen to the choir practicing, pray some, then simply sit there and let it all consume her-the atmosphere of peacefulness, the candle scent, the smell of old wood and dusty Bibles. He liked it too. Liked curling up next to her while she opened the Bible and read from it. To him it was like the times she read to him from the Iliad before bed-it was a book like any other, only it held some more wisdom, she used to tell him. 

When he grew up he started going there with her less often and Octavia had never for some reason liked church, so Aurora would go on her own, sometimes before or after work.

On occasions, especially after he got involved with Anya, he’d come home late and as he passed by her room to his, he’d hear her pray and it’d always make him feel bad and stay awake for hours later, because she asked for him and O to be healthy and happy, to be safe and not once did he hear her want something for herself.

So now he wanted them to gather in the church, as few as they may be, because he believed it’d bring her peace. 

“I can come and help with all that.”

“No, Clarke.” he shakes his head “Those are all things I have to do alone. You” he squeezes her shoulder “need to be at school.” she opens her mouth to protest but he’s faster “I refuse to let you ruin your future because of me. It’s not what I want and it’s not what-” his voice breaks here “what she’d have wanted, okay?”

Clarke sighs and looks down so he pulls her into his embrace and holds her close.

“I know this is hard for you too.” he whispers in her ear and she buries her nose in his shoulder “And that you got close to her, so I want you to know you’re allowed to cry and break down too.”

“This isn’t about me.” she shakes her head and pulls away to meet his eyes.

“No, it’s about her and how she left a mark on everyone in her life, including you. I’m her son and yes it hurts like hell, it will never stop hurting but you…you became her friend, Clarke and she yours, so…I don’t want you to swallow your grief because you’re worried about me.” she leans her cheek on his chest again and he moves his hands up and down her back “I’ll be fine.”

The problem was, she didn’t believe him for a second but he was right about one thing-she had some important tests this week and she had to pass them with good grades if she wanted to keep up her GPA. 

“I’ll be back right after school, I promise.”

“You don’t have to be.” she ignores him and wraps her arms around his neck pulling him closer. 

He looked…lost which considering everything was normal but when she looked into his eyes and found emptiness, it scared her.

She breathed him and that alone was enough to give her the strength she needed.

“Did you take your pills?” she asks when she pulls away and she’s not surprised when he shakes his head.

“I’ll do it right now.”

“Then breakfast, okay?” he nods and it is because he agrees so easily with her that she’s afraid he won’t touch it.

He tries to do everything in his power to reassure her, kissing her forehead and cheek and though it feels wrong to touch her lips, she must sense his hesitation because she pulls him down herself. 

The truth was he was afraid he’d only give her more pain if he kissed her and she already had enough. He cups her cheek and rubs his nose under her eye before he heads to the bathroom to wash his face and comb his freshly cut hair.

Somewhere at the back of all this he hears her moving around, gathering her stuff, talking to Trooper and finally yelling her goodbye at him.

He barely acknowledges it, he does everything robotically, without any meaning or sense. At some point he opens the glass cupboard above the sink and takes out his pills. 

His mother’s voice echoes in his head.

_“I want you to take care of your health, get your medicine and go to Jackson for check ups.”_

He laughs bitterly as he drops the two pills he has to take in his hand and stares at them a moment too long. 

What good had it done to her when she took them? How did they help her? They couldn’t save her.

She was still dead.

He’d die too one day. Maybe sooner than he thought, maybe not. 

But this didn’t matter. It couldn’t fix her and it won’t be able to fix him.

It’s just a delusion like everything else in his life. A band aid over a gunshot wound. It helps no one, least of all him or those around him.

He throws the pills in the toilet and flushes them down, putting back the still half full orange bottle in its rightful place as he was certain Clarke would check later if he took them.

She was yet another person who suffered because of him, yet another person who didn’t deserve all the pain that he brought into her life.

He changes into fresh clothes and puts on his ruffled bloody coat on before saying goodbye to Trooper for the next few hours.

He goes through the day the same way-empty and alone, feeling like crying every minute but not being able to at the same time.

Sinclair’s very understanding and even suggests he gives him a loan which for once Bellamy accepts because he’s well aware he won’t be able to pay for everything with the money his mom put aside. He promises he’ll be back next week, maybe even Saturday if Sinclair was okay with that and he leaves feeling even worse after accepting the money.

The talk with the priest goes smoothly, he’s a very calm and understanding man and when he looks at his face and his swollen eye, Bellamy doesn’t find pity in his look, just a certain kind of sadness that felt akin to his own. 

They talk about the ceremony and if Bellamy would want him to read something particular from the Bible at which point he picks out the small black book she kept by her bedside and after having gone through it on the way here, points at the passage she had underlined with a pencil more than once. 

The priest smiles sadly and nods. “I think she really loved that one.”

Once he’s alone, Bellamy knows he should leave but instead he sits on the third bench on the left-the place his mom always choose for them and just listens to the quietness and peacefulness of it all.

When he looks up at the beautifully painted ceiling his eyes fill with tears and the familiar heaviness settles in his chest-that painful one, not just the grief one. His eye trumps in his side and when he tries to open it, he sees nothing but a mist covering all the colors around him.

Eventually he leaves and goes to the hardware shop and then home where he sways a bit on is feet and he knows that he should probably eat since he hasn’t in about two days, and maybe rest but he strangely doesn’t feel too tired, so he gets to work.

Clarke finds him late in the afternoon, having climbed up on the roof in nothing but his old shirt and jeans, fixing the patch that has been leaking all winter. Though it was cold outside and the wind has picked up, he couldn’t feel anything.

“Bellamy, you’ll get sick!” she says when she sees him like this. He hadn’t even realized that he was soaked, at some point it had started raining but not too hard and at the back of his mind he knew he should stop and go inside but he simply couldn’t care “It’s slippery, you’ll fall.”

“Don’t worry, princess. It’s not the first time I’m doing this.” he says back when he finishes up the patch and works on putting back the tiles, changing the broken ones with the new he had bought. 

“Bellamy, get down here right now!” she orders him from the porch as she watches him stand up on the edge of the roof holding a hammer and a tile and looking down at her with a smirk.

“You scared, princess?”

“Please, come down!” she asks when he staggers on his feet and has to lean down to steady himself. 

“Don’t be, this is one of the few things I’m good at.”

“Bellamy, you’re barely standing, please come down before you fall!” she begs and because he doesn’t want to worry her anymore, he finishes off fixing his tiles and climbs down the ladder. 

The rain had started falling quietly again, much like the grief and pain inside of him and once he’s down he takes a moment too long leaning on the ladder before he turns around and feels her hands grab his shirt and pull him to her.

“What the fuck was that!” she asks angrily shaking him, eyes red and filling with tears that mix with the rain coming down her face.

“Nothing.”

“You almost fell!”

“You’re being dramatic, I just fixed the roof.”

“Bellamy-”

“You worry too much, it’s nothing.”

“I saw you up there, you didn’t give a damn about what could happen!”

“Of course I did.”

“Bullshit you were going to fall and you were fucking smiling at me!” she screams in his face and his eyes fall “Goddammit, Bellamy you can’t fucking do that! Going out and getting the shit beaten out of you is one thing and I let it pass but this-”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, princess.” he says softly as he pulls her to his chest “I really didn’t mean to.”

“We’re going inside.” she says after hugging him back and pulling him in. 

“I was really just trying to fix the roof.” he says again when she senses she’s still mad.

“In that condition? Do you have a death wish?” he sighs rubbing the back of his neck and giving he a quiet nod.

“You’re right, it was stupid. I won’t do it again.” he promises after pulling her in for a short hug again and upon her still pissed off look, heading to the bathroom to shower.

She goes out to do some groceries while he’s busy drying off and when she comes back she panics when she doesn’t find him in the kitchen or the living room or his room until she sees the door of his mom’s bedroom cracked open and finds him curled up on her bed.

Clarke never knew her heart could break for him more than it already had. She'd seen him hurt, shot, tossing and turning from the pain, crying but this...finding him all alone there in the middle of his mother's bed, pillow stained with tears his hands shaking as he whimpered quietly in restless sleep,suddenly so small (Bellamy had never looked small to her before) and so goddamn crushed made her sob so unexpectedly, she had to cover her mouth with her hand and run to the kitchen so he wouldn't hear the grief pouring out from her.


	16. The perfect weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for reading and sorry for all the pain I've caused you with the previous chapter! I checked what I have left to publish and there are going to be just two more chapters, so this story is almost at its end. I know it was a wild ride and I know it's not very well written but I am grateful to all of you who stuck with it!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

The next few days pass like this-she goes to school and comes back to him fixing something in the house, painting the living room or fixing the porch stairs or anything else that he could get his hands on which was good because keeping busy was a smart move except for the fact that it only helped him get more closed off and quiet.

He didn’t talk or barely did so, wouldn’t eat at all so she had to force him some nights to at least get a few bites.

He smoked, all the time, without a care in the world anymore now that Aurora wasn’t here to stop him.

He didn’t fear her enough and in all honesty, she wasn’t sure how conscious he was doing it all. He’d be standing in the middle of the room, paint bucket near his feet, a brush in his hand and he’d stop, pick out his pack and light one inside.

It got to the point that he smoked so much, that one night when she came in later than usually because she had practice at school and had to write a report in the library, she found him passed out on the couch and a cigarette burning in his fingers threatening to fall on the floor and probably set the carpet on fire.

She tried to scold him then, tell him he had to stop this and…he agreed and apologized.

Because apparently that’s who he was now.

He didn’t fight her, he had no strength but he agreed and the next day, he still smoked his lungs out and made his heartbeat and probably blood pressure worse, but he apologized and said _"I’m sorry"_ at least a thousand times.

She doesn’t think he got much rest either.

He’d pass out for hours during the day but be awake at night and on the day before her funeral, he stays awake smoking and writing her eulogy until five in the morning. 

She has to be the one to force him to shower and shave him again.

The suit he uses to put on is courtesy of her dad but when she helps him into it, he doesn’t even question it-he’s so out of it, he doesn’t even fight her on it when she is the one to button his shirt and help him with his tie.

He’s slack in her arms, his breathing is shallow and she’s worried his heart is not okay but she hopes he’ll be able to hold on until after the funeral when she’ll drag him to Jackson even if it cost her a fight with him.

Friday comes dark and cloudy, even a little windy just like Aurora liked it and Clarke smiles when she waits for Bellamy to put his shoes on, looking at the sky and thinking of her. 

He’s quiet and answers all her questions with a nod-did he call O and his aunt, are they meeting them there? Did he take his meds? Did he remember to put the eulogy in his pocket-he shows her the crumbled yellow pages as proof. 

The day before she came to find him making a yellow flower crown out whatever he could find in their backyard and maybe the corner flower shop and when she asks him about it, he tells her that as a boy he used to make those for his mom and O. Wanted to put one on the coffin before she was lowered to the ground.

He says it with voice breaking and tears falling over the flowers but he lets her comfort him, wrap her arms around his neck and pull him for a short hug unlike all her attempts the previous days which he rejected with a light nod of his head before heading to her room and curling up on her bed, falling asleep crying and waking up a few hours later to smoke until dawn.

They are surprised when they find the church half full and when she sees his expression, Clarke wants to cry.

There are all the women from the sewing company that she invited over as well as of course Jackson, her father, Octavia, their aunt but to the right…there was another small group.

A group that she again had come in contact with.

When Bellamy sees them he stops dead in his track and his eyes water.

Miller stands up and starts walking to him with a tired sad smile followed by Jasper, Monty, Harper and Monroe.

Bellamy turns to face her and she rubs his shoulder.

“I thought you needed all the support you could get so with the help of Jaha who knew a few people that owed him favors, we got Miller’s number from the juvie. He called the others himself.”

Bellamy crumbles at that and pulls her in for a strong hug.

“Thank you, princess. Thank you so much!” she feels him bury his nose in her shoulder and tighten his grip. When they pull away he cups her face and kisses her for the first time, really kisses her, after days of barely there touches and small hand squeezes. “I know I’ve been a really crappy boyfriend, but I…I-”

“You don’t have to say it. Not now…not here.” she assures him.

“Clarke-”

“But for the record so do I.” she promises with a gentle squeeze before she stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. 

“So that’s the girl who drove you crazy in juvie, huh?” they both turn at the voice and upon seeing Miller he smiles and they both hug, patting their backs and holding each other a moment too long.

“This is Clarke” he introduces her after hugging the others too and they all exchange polite smiles.”Clarke those are my friends Miller, Jasper, Monty, Harper and Monroe”

“We talked on the phone.” Miller says “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you for coming.” she whispers back quietly.

“I’m sorry it had to be under those circumstances.” Miller continues and his eyes fall on Bellamy again “We all want to offer our condolences.”

“We’re sorry, Bellamy.” Jasper adds and reaches to squeeze his shoulder.

“We want you to know you can count on us about anything.” Harper chimes in as well “Whatever you need, no matter how small, we’re here to help.”

“We’re family.” Monty states and when he turns his head trying to hide his tears, they all come close and hug him once again, whispering reassurances in his ear and making him promise to call about anything. 

It all makes him quite emotional but also…relieved, knowing he’s not alone.

When they sit on the front row, Clarke’s on his right and Octavia, who’s mostly..catatonic, on his left.

His aunt had explained on the phone earlier that day that she was doing a little better but the councilor had her on mild sedatives so she could sleep and she talked to him every day but Bellamy knew the truth-she was a ten year old kid who just became an orphan, there was no way this would ever be easy for her.

He pulls her to his side and talks to her but she’s not very responsive and she’s not crying. She cuddles next to him, though and lets him stroke her hair but she doesn’t speak, not even when Clarke tries to talk to her and make her feel a little better.

When the sermon starts, Bellamy tries very hard not to cry, knowing that after, it’d be his turn to talk first, then his aunt and after, Clarke who had asked him if he felt okay with her speaking which of course made him not only happy but also relieved in knowing he won’t be alone standing there with his mom’s coffin behind him.

He’s wobbly on his feet when he goes to the small wooden stand and his fingers shake when he takes off the yellow papers and clears his throat.

“My mother was born on a grey windy day in the middle of November just an hour from Arkadia, in a small town called Hersham that’s bordering the ocean. Just a few days ago, actually, my sister, my girlfriend, her and I went there to celebrate my coming of age.” his voice shakes at that. 

“She spent ten years of her life there after which she moved to Arkadia with her family, where she later met my father, married him and had me. Her entire life, my mother worked hard every day. At first she was a seamstress, picking up the trade from her mother, after which she and my dad worked at a factory downtown but upon finding out that she’s pregnant she resumed back to sewing and he to working three jobs so they’d be ready for my arrival.”

“There are no words to describe how much I love my mother.” his voice breaks at that “Or find the right adjectives to explain how much I looked up to her or how much she inspired me. She raised me to be better…to be good.”

He takes a deep breath at that.

“However, I failed her at that. Like many of my peers in Arkadia, I took down a darker and easier path and I made her feel ashamed of me, her son.” Clarke wants to go there and holds his hand, tell him how wrong he is, shake him and promise him that Aurora loved him no matter what because that was the truth.

“Yet she loved me despite it all. Not only that, a few days before she died, she told me how proud she was of me. I can’t…for the life of me understand what she could be proud of but I know how proud I am to be her son, how happy I am that it was her who the universe chose for my mother. Every day, she woke up before dawn and worked hard until her bones hurt, until she couldn’t breathe, until her heart slowed her down so much she barely moved and no matter what she persisted. She remained. She was and will always be the thing that brings our family together and makes us strong.”

The tears are full on spilling down his face and he’s dabbing at his good eye with the sleeve of his jacket, but his voice comes out strong.

“I think what hurts the most is that…she’ll never get to see my sister grow up and graduate high school, go into college. She’ll never go to one of her taekwondo competitions. She’ll never get to see me fix our house like I promised or let me make her really proud like I intended to.”

He grips the sides of the wooden podium.

“And those, I came to realize, are just my selfish desires, they are not what she really needs so I decided, I have to come to terms with that fact and move on, but what I wish for her…what I hope for her is…peace. She had so much pain in her life. Pain that in ways, I know some about.” his heart, Clarke thinks, their sick hearts

“Or pain I have never experienced like the loss of her husband and the struggles to raise not one but two children on your own. The pains of empty stomachs and cold bones because of the lack of food or electricity in our household. The pain of your back and the pain of the blisters on your hands after spending days cleaning up other people’s houses. The pain of watching your child grow sick or unhappy.” his eyes fall on his sister.

Clarke bows her head down trying to contain her tears. 

“Today is a rather gloomy day, there’s wind and grey skies outside. In many ways it resembles the day she was born but also…the days she loved the most. My mom adored the cold weather, maybe because she always was cold herself and she had gotten quite used to it.” he smiles sadly “I’d watch her sometimes sit on our back porch, work on a dress or shirt and stop for a second to lift her head up and let the wind move her hair, breathe it all in and even let a small shiver run down her spine, after which she’d smile look at me, a ten year old wanky stupid boy who read the Iliad in her feet while she worked and she’d say _“Isn’t it just the perfect weather out here, Bellamy?”_

And me, being the kid that I was would say-”I’d prefer it if it was raining or snowing, cause I loved making a mess of myself in the garden and she’d laugh and reach to cup my cheek and kiss my forehead.”

“I hope that wherever she is now, it is grey and windy, that she looks up and closes her eyes, feel her hair on her face. I hope wherever she is…she’s happy.” he chokes on the last words before he takes one more shuddering breath and turns to the coffin behind him.

“I love you, mom. I always will.”

On his way back to the stands, he staggers so hard, Clarke has to stand up and help him sit back down.

His aunt, who’s been distant and cold which only grew worse when she looked at his beaten face, talked about her and Aurora’s childhood and some about her life but it felt somewhat emotionless and weak.

Clarke had this grand speech prepared but after seeing what Bellamy went through, she was too sad and broken herself, realizing that words are probably going to hurt him a lot more so she sticks on emphasizing that Aurora welcomed her into their family and treated her like her own child in ways no one ever has in a while. 

Then they drive to the cemetery which thankfully is very close and it is when Octavia sees her mom being lowered to the ground that she finally starts crying. Bellamy picks her up and holds her in his arms and soothingly talks her into putting the small flower crown on the coffin.

Then it starts raining and Clarke watches as he tries to cover his sister with his coat and keep her dry.

The wake lasts shorter than Clarke thought it would. A few of her colleagues from the sewing company give more than one casserole and cake they’ve prepared as well as a small amount of money they had gathered to give Bellamy and help with the funeral expenses.

Miller and the rest of them help Clarke with the food while he sits on the couch with Octavia sobbing in his chest and his aunt sitting next to them, soothingly rubbing her back but giving Bellamy none of the same treatment.

When everyone leaves, Clarke offers to give O a bath and put her to bed which takes a long while and while she’s helping her put her PJs on she can hear loud voices coming from the living room, Bellamy’s most of all, which worries her and makes her rush in and put his sister who’s thankfully to spent to fight her and falls right asleep, to bed. 

“No way! I’m not going to just give her to you! I’m eighteen and I can be her legal guardian!” she hears Bellamy’s voice coming from the kitchen and when she rushes there she finds him and his aunt on both sides of the table filled with funeral food.

“You may be of age, but no judge would ever give you custody.”

“What’s going on here?”

“She wants to take Octavia!” Bellamy cries out and waves his hand at his aunt who’s gripping the chair before her as if to prevent herself from raising her voice.

_“What?”_

“Bellamy, I’m just saying, this is what’s best for her. You know it, my sister knew it too before she died. We were discussing Octavia coming to live with me in the fall.”

“She hadn’t made a decision yet!” he bursts back “We talked about it and she was conflicted, okay?”

“And what do you expect you’d do if she stays here? Sign her at the local school again where she doesn’t have any friends? Then have to pull her out when she has another angry outburst and home school her except you won’t be able to because you’ll be working all day long, not one but maybe two jobs?”

“I will find a way.” Bellamy insists stubbornly.

“Will it be good enough for her?”

“I think maybe you should leave” Clarke intervenes as she steps forward “Now is not the time to talk about this.”

“It’s exactly the time and Octavia agrees to stay with me.”

“How dare you talk to her about this just days after she lost her mother? How could you be so heartless?” Bellamy bursts “My sister needs to stay with her family, at her home.”

“And you,an eighteen year boy with a record, no degree and not future prospects who makes minimum wage, will be that for her?” she spits back “I know you hate me for this but ask yourself this-will you be able to give her a good life? Pay for her lessons, provide her with a good education, save money for college?”

“I’ll give everything for her.”

“And it still won’t be enough” his aunt spits back “Because you don’t have the means to do it, Bellamy. If she comes with me, she can thrive, become the woman that I know your mother always dreamed of being. She’ll do great things with her life.”

“And he won’t.” Clarke states bitterly “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, but I as well as my sister, always knew who’d be the one to make the family proud.” aunt Leah cuts off bitterly, her words felt as daggers against his weak body “And it’s not him.”

“ _He_ is in that room.” Bellamy states coldly raising his voice again “And I’m not giving up my sister.”

“Then I’ll see you at court.” aunt Leah spits bitterly “Because you may love Octavia as your sister but let me tell you something, Bellamy, I love her as my child and I’ll fight for her with everything I can.”

“Good. Until then I don’t want you anywhere near this house.” Bellamy states “And if you try to come and take her I’ll put on a restraining order.”

After she’s gone, having closed the door behind her, he pulls up the chair and sits down breathing heavily, his hand on his chest, obviously in pain like that same time he was back at court. He struggles to pull air in and out and Clarke rushes to get the pills his mom had used then, forcing him to take two under his tongue and holding his hand until he calmed down and felt better.

“I can’t believe she did this on mom’s funeral.” he whispers as she holds him, carefully moving him back and forth trying to help him calm down. “She’ll take her, Clarke…she’s right about it all. No judge will give me custody.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes…I do.” he cries and his tears spill on her shirt “I do.”

* * *

Less than a month later, he turns out to be right no matter how hard they try to fight it.

They hire Jaha again but his aunt’s lawyer is pushing and obviously has connections to the judge. Things don’t work in his favor at all-everything that aunt Leah mentions is true-he’s of age, but he’s got a record, he just recently came out of juvie, he worked a job as a mechanic with minimum wage and lived in a rundown neighborhood in a broken down house.

It was no place for a ten year old.

In addition aunt Leah has all the proof that Octavia was doing much better when she was with her-she could provide her professional mental health, sign her up at a good school that helped kids with anger issues instead of just throwing them out, she could sign her up for all extracurricular she desired and pay for any lessons she needed. She could give her clothes, enough food and her own room which Octavia never had.

At the end when the judge asks O where she’d like to live she looks down at her shoes and twists her hands around, dressed in her old blue dress and the red shirt underneath-the only clothes he could get her that were clean and the fact alone makes him realize that maybe aunt Leah was right…maybe he wasn’t what’s best for her and the more he watched the points the lawyers made, the more he listened to all the things his aunt could do for her, the more he realized that…as hard as this is, it is truly what is best for her.

“I love my brother.” Octavia tells the judge “And I want to keep seeing him but…I feel more like myself at Hydra…with aunt Leah.” she cries when she says it and then turns to her brother who’s sitting next to Jaha. “I’m so sorry, Bell.” she cries out and he stands up only to have her throw herself in his arms.

“It’s okay, O.” he whispers in her ear “It’s okay.”

He hates himself for making her go through this after she just lost her mother but thankfully…the hearing that day was the worst of it.

In the weeks she spent at home with him, he had realized that she had grown sadder and quieter there. He couldn’t give her his attention throughout the day because he had to work so he’d reside to hiring someone to stay with her until Clarke herself was done with school and got home.

He returned late after dinner and made her something simple which she wouldn’t touch or barely eat.

She’d cry every night because she missed her mom and he’d sleep in bed with her to help her through it but he’d end up waking up from a nightmare himself and one time he scared her so bad, she screamed and ran to the living room where she hid under a bunch of blankets and he had to talk to her for half an hour before she even decided to peak up from under them.

This was no way for a child to live.

No way at all.

After a brief recess of ten minutes, the judge gives his aunt custody, settling on Octavia seeing her brother twice a month for the weekends and demanding they work a schedule for the holidays so that he got enough time with her. 

He can see how the decision was so easy to be made-when he looked himself in the mirror that morning he saw nothing but a boy with red blooded eye, messy hair, hands that never stopped shaking and to all that one could add a heart disease that would one day be the reason for him to leave this earth like his mom had and that in turn would bring Octavia more pain, criminal record, no education and a simple job. 

He couldn’t take care of another person.

He could barely take care of himself.

“I’ll see you next Saturday, O.” he whispers in her ear and when they pull away he brushes the tears from her face “Be good to aunt, okay? Listen to her and do your homework.”

“What about you?” she had asked with worry.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I got Trooper and Clarke to scold me.” he jokes giving her a weak wink.

Clarke comes behind to grip his shoulder just as aunt Leah stands behind his sister, impatient to get her home. Despite everything, Bellamy could truly see how much she loved Octavia which is the reason why he wasn’t worried sending her home with her because he knew she’d show her love, feed her, read her a bed time story and in the morning, though life was hard, though she had lost her mom, she’d have her to wake up too and go through the day.

“Will you keep him safe?” O asks turning her face to Clarke which surprises her but when she kneels down the girl moves from her brother’s lap to Clarke’s, hugging her tightly.

“Of course I will.”

“I love you, O.” Bellamy says stroking her head “I’m sorry that it had to be this way and I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” she promises sounding wiser than a kid her age “You fought for me.”

“I always will. No matter what.” he promises, hugging her again and holding her a bit longer than before “You can always call me, no matter the time and if you want to see me after school or sleep over, all you have to do is come and I’ll open the door for you, okay? We’ll always be a family, no matter what happens.”

“Okay.” O promises and he kisses her cheek trying hard to hold his tears so he doesn’t upset her but she surprises him by cupping his face and looking into his eyes. “Remember what mom always said-it’s okay to cry” he smiles sadly and bites his lip “So if you’re feeling sad, you shouldn’t be ashamed of your tears. You can let them go.”

“Alright.” he promises and pulls her in for one last hug as aunt Leah was growing impatient. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Octavia, we should go.” her aunt puts her hand on her shoulder and pulls her to her giving her a small smile. Bellamy stands up and she reaches her hand out to him as a sign of peace. 

He doesn’t want to take it, right now, he can’t even look at her face because he hurts so damn much and his heart was broken.

But when he looks up and sees his sister’s big eyes dancing between the two of them, he realizes this is not about his feelings.

And he takes it.

Watching his sister leave the court room, her head turning back on the way to the door and waving at him with her plush bear under one arm, is the last straw that was needed to completely break him.

He smiles and waves back.

But he spends the night crying all alone in an empty house, listening to his slowly beating heart that tried to keep his shell of a body alive for a reason unknown to him or even to the world as he was well aware that if it stopped and he ceased to exist, nothing all around him would change even the slightest.

And that wasn’t a tragedy.

It was life.


	17. His smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

The next morning is a Saturday and he wakes up at five in the morning after having a surprisingly peaceful night without any nightmares or interruptions like usually.

He’s, however, still feeling dead on his feet and he drags himself through the empty house, makes himself coffee and lights a cigarette in the kitchen as there was no one to fight him on it.

His mother was dead and Clarke was away to Washington with her dad for her final interview after receiving a letter of acceptance just this week to study medicine in the university there.

The thought alone make him smile-his princess off to college, two and a half hours away from home. They haven’t talked about it, using the rest of the problems around them to distract themselves instead of facing the simple truth that this, as well as everything else in his life, was going to soon come to an end.

He’s supposed to go to work today but he still has about two and a half hours before he has to be in the garage so after smoking more or less half of his pack and draining two more cups of coffee, he calls Trooper who’s asleep on the couch and they leave the house.

They need just one bus to get to the cemetery and though he usually enjoyed those rides, he knew people hated dogs in public transportation and he was thinking of taking up Sinclair on his offer to fix that old truck that’s been left in the garage for over half a year and using it himself.

The owner had apparently given up on it and his boss had suggested Bellamy tried to repair it himself and having it but with everything going on-his mom dying and fighting for Octavia, this was the least of his concerns.

Now it sounded like a good thing to focus on.

The morning is sunny and somewhat bright-spring was coming in full force and he felt kind of hot, though it couldn’t have been that warm around him.

It happened often these days-he would get really hot and then very cold, his heart would trump loudly or slow down so much he felt like fainting, his joints were swollen even now-his ankles and his wrists.

He knew all of those were technically his disease and the fact that he didn’t take his medications wasn’t helping things but he ignored it.

He felt so sad and empty inside that he couldn’t give a damn about it.

To get to the cemetery he and Trooper had to walk up a small hill and on the way there he stops three times and feels so dizzy and tired that he has to lean on his knees.

Trooper sniffs him and nudges him with his muzzle, as if urging him to keep going and with whatever strength he has left, he keeps walking.

For a moment before he gets to the metal gates, he feels something buzzing in his pocket and he remembers that last week Clarke gave him a phone.

One of those old button ones because he refused to buy himself a new one and she needed to be able to call him.

He hated it because she paid for his plan so he refused to use it to call her, opting on their home one instead that was however cut off when he didn’t have the money to pay for it. Still, he was stubborn enough not to rely on it and she was the one who always looked for him first.

He takes it out with trembling hands and ponders on whether or not he should pick up. If he doesn’t, she’ll keep calling him until he does and worry about him instead of focus on her interview. If he does…he risks letting her know how he really sounds and making her panic.

He’ll have to fake it then, he decides.

“Hey, princess” he tries to keep his voice light “How’s our capital?”

“Bellamy, thank God, I’ve been calling for the last hour.”

“Sorry, I was actually asleep for once.” he hears her sigh on the other end and clenches his fist-he could do this, he could pretend. “You guys doing alright?”

“Yeah, we’re on our way for the meeting, you wouldn’t believe the traffic here.”

“How do you feel?”

“A little nervous.” she admits and immediately feels the need to change the subject on himself, always the more selfless one out of the two of them “How are you?”

“Good…considering everything.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave after…yesterday. I’ll try to come back tonight.”

“No.” he shakes his head stubbornly “I want you to stay.”

“Bellamy-”

“Princess, for the past few months you’ve done nothing but be there for me, help me go through juvie with our letters, then survive…mom’s passing and then Octavia leaving. You have literally done nothing for yourself and I can’t help but feel like the most selfish dick in the universe."

“Bellamy, that’s not true.”

“It is but what I mean to say is, please, do this one thing for yourself. Be with your father, ace your interview, walk around the campus, have fun.” he can feel her open her mouth to protest “And stop worrying about me. I’m okay. About to take a walk with Troop now and yes, I had breakfast and took my meds.” he lies so convincingly, he’s about to believe what he’s saying. “Then I’ll spend the day working and probably pass out tonight so you really should just let yourself enjoy this.”

She sighs on the other end and he can tell it is one of defeat which makes him smile as he keeps walking, Trooper by his side, helping him walk up.

His eye,the one he hurt in the fight after his mom’s death, had never truly healed. It was still red and bloody and everything before him came out blurry. He hadn’t told Clarke about it, though she could see it didn’t look fine and wanted to make Jackson check him out as well as his heart, since he hasn’t been to a check up before his mom died, but he always found an excuse-either needing to talk to Jaha about his sister’s case or work and so she had somehow let it slide.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Promise, princess.” he says quietly and he’s afraid that for a moment maybe it came out too sad and he’ll worry her because she doesn’t respond in any way but then finally she must believe him because she agrees.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you, princess”

He walks through the graveyard as if in a dream, rolls and rolls of stones that remind him of the houses in his neighborhood.

Some names he recognizes-they are of kids he went to school with, who died way too young after getting involved in messes like his own with Anya, some he hasn’t heard of but once he gets to the one he’s looking for, the ground before the small stone still not fully covered in grass, he stops and Trooper, upon sensing his sadness, stays still next to him.

He kneels down and buries his hand in the little bump of soil before the stone, digging his fingers in it with a small smile.

“Hey, mom.” he greets her taking a moment to stare at the words before him.

_Aurora Blake_

_1970-2019_

_Loving wife, sister, mother_

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here since the funeral.” he apologizes as he reaches to clean the dead flowers and place them away in a small pile that he’ll pick before he leaves. Trooper settles down near him, putting his muzzle in his lap. 

“I brought you this, I hope you like it.” he continues taking out a small yellow flower crown “Those little ones that look like daisies have just started to come out in the backyard. I felt bad picking them up but I knew they belonged here. That and…Trooper has taken a liking to eating them for some reason so they’re safer with you.”

Trooper whines upon hearing his name and looks up with his one eye for a moment before he nuzzles his head back and urges Bellamy to pet his head, the old softie that he is.

“I don’t know where you are and if you could see what happened in the past month.” he continues swallowing hard “I kind of hope that you couldn’t because I really hate to think that you could’ve see how I let Octavia go.”

“You’ve been gone barely a month and I already screwed everything up.” he laughs sadly, fakely to himself as he rubs Trooper’s ears and closes his eyes “But considering the mess that I am…maybe this is all for the better, at least for O. She deserves a good life and aunt Leah can give it to her.”

“I don’t know what else to really say except that…I’m tired.” he chokes on his tears again “I’m tired of everyone leaving, I’m tired of waking up and realizing I have to go through another day in which you’re not there. I’m tired of going to the bedroom and walking in expecting to find you there but meet only silence. I’m tired of seeing Clarke’s worried face whenever she looks at me and I’m tired of feeling just… ** _so damn bad._** ” his voice breaks “I’m tired of crying too.”

A few of his tears fall on Trooper’s head and he looks up sadly, moving up to lick his hands and his face pushing his body in his for a hug. He buries his fingers in his fur and tries to steady his breathing.

“How do I keep going, mom?” he whimpers “How do I…it hurts so much.” he says through heavy breaths “You taught me so many things but you never said how am I to…live through losing you.”

“What if I can’t?” a smaller voice echoes in his head but he doesn’t let it out. He can’t.He’s afraid that if he does, it’ll truly be the end for him.

He holds on Trooper and cries, he cries for as long as he can and for as much as his body allows him too. He has no idea how much time passes but eventually, he somehow stands up and stumbles to the stone, caressing the letters one last time before he gets up to leave.

He commands himself to be strong, go through the motions even if he doesn’t feel like it. He goes back home, gives Trooper food, showers and leaves for work.

The entire day he feels like shit, barely standing on his feet, barely holding on and his soul hurts so much he just wants to cry but nothing comes out.

In the evening, he gets back and he’s feeling so bad, he passes out on the floor. His heart is trumping in his chest and he can’t breathe. Trooper pats to him, whimpers, even barks and licks his face,nudges him with his muzzle and tries to make him get up but he can’t. He feels so weak and soon, it all goes black before his eyes and he loses consciousness.

He thinks maybe this is how it happened with his mom. Maybe it wasn’t exactly like Jackson said-fast like a lightening, momentary sharp pain. Maybe it was losing control of your body, feeling weak and succumbing into darkness.

It makes sense to him. 

He wakes up to the sounds of machines beeping on his left, the smell of antiseptic and medicine. But there’s also the faint scent of lavender and wood that’s somewhat familiar.

His good eye takes a moment to focus on his surroundings, the bad one, probably still filled with blood, doesn’t even make an attempt to make sense of the mixture of blurry figures before him.

He’s lying in a bed and when he looks down at himself he finds he’s dressed in one of those ugly hospital gowns, his arm hooked up to all sorts of little tubes, an IV, no two dripping something in him on the left. He breathes in easier than usually and when his hand shoots for his face, he finds a small cannula in his nose. With a groan, he tries to move, sit up, but ends up falling back in the pillows gracelessly. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” he voice comes out cold and stern and when he looks up he finds Clarke leaning on the door frame. 

“Clarke-” he croaks, his voice comes out so hoarse it makes him choke on his failed attempt at speaking and she rushes in to help him take a few sups of water from a plastic cup on the nightstand. “What happened?”

“I came home on Saturday.” she says when she sits near his hand but doesn’t take it in hers. She’s stand offish, cold and his brain is still too fuzzy to make sense of anything other than the fact that he’s obviously in a hospital “The entire time I was away I had a bad feeling so despite our conversation on the phone I made dad drive us home. Actually, not to Sanctum but Arkadia, straight to you. Thank god we did that because we found you passed out on the floor, barely alive.”

“I-…”

“Do you remember any of that?”

“I remember coming home and trying to go to bed I think…”

“Yeah well your heart beat was barely there and you were cold…almost blue. We called an ambulance and they got you here.” his hand falls on his chest still feeling the heaviness and pain with every breath he took “Jackson started you on medications right away and they managed to somewhat stabilize you.”

“Judging by the sound of your voice that’s not all of it.” he whispers trying to meet her eyes but she stubbornly kept her head to the left, avoiding his look. 

“Your heart still stopped last night.” she mumbles and finally meets his eyes “They had to perform CPR and somehow managed to bring you back.” he grabs the hem of his gown and when he pulls it down he can see the burn marks from the paddles of the defibrillator they used to shock his heart with.

“So I died-” he whispers letting his hand fall back to his side “And they saved my life?” she nods and he closes his eyes briefly. “Am I in the ICU?”

“Yes, you need to be under constant observation.”

“How are you here then?” he knows visitations are not usually allowed if you’re in the ICU from the few times his mom had ended up here.

“Well it was that or I’d refuse to leave the doors leading here until Jackson relented so he decided it’s better not to fight me.” he smiles at that “Plus he thought it might do you some good, me being here”

“It does.” he promises “I’m sorry I scared you so much.”

“You should be.” she’s back to her defensiveness “This could’ve never happened if you had just taken your medication.” he swallows hard at that and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“You lied to me. You probably lied to your mother too when she was still alive judging by the tests Jackson did which proved you must’ve not taken them for months.”

He swallows hard and opens his eyes to meet hers.

“How long?” she asks and because he knows she deserves an honest answer he sighs and drags his hand down his face.”Was it when you got out?”

“I took them then…just not regularly.”

“Why?”

“Thought I could give half my rations to mom so I split my bottle between her and me, at least on those that were the same.”

“Jesus, Bellamy-”

“I know. It was stupid and it didn’t work anyway, she’s still dead.” his words sound lame even to him “I thought I could save money.”

“It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”

“For me it does.” he’s not ashamed to say that out loud but it makes her sigh and rub her forehead tiredly.

“When did you stop over all?”

“After she died.” she seems to have been expecting that answer but still he can see it makes her angrily fist her hands and bite her lip.

“And you didn’t stop to think about Octavia? Me?”

“I…” he whispers back tiredly, feeling himself grow weaker again. He hated fighting her but he understood why she was angry. If the situations were reversed and it was her lying here, he’d be probably raging hell. “No matter what happens to me, Octavia will be fine with aunt. Safe. And you…you’re going off to college soon, starting on your life.”

“So you dying would be just the perfect ending, wouldn’t it? Everyone will be great and you’ll be rid of all your pain?”

“Clarke-”

“No I just want to figure out your brilliant logic, Blake. I want to know what it was going on in your brain when you decided to stop taking your pills and almost kill yourself.”

“You’re angry.” he states again and the machines beep up loudly next to him as he feels his heart trump faster and once again, he struggles to breathe. For a moment she forgets all about her feelings, though, as she rushes by his side to take his hand and stare at the monitors.

At the feel of her touch in his, he smiles.

“Hey…” he whispers, bringing her attention back to him “I’m okay.” he says though he feels really weak and on the verge of passing out again.

“You’re not.” she sighs before checking his vitals on the monitor again and letting a breath out, he pulls her so she’s sitting next to him again “You’re really bad.”

“I’m sure Jackson’s exaggerating. The Blakes are tough bastards,we don’t give up that easily.”

“You almost died, Bellamy.” she reminds him again “He says you’re way worse than he expected you to be at this stage.”

“You mean at eighteen?” she nods and he shrugs as if they weren’t talking about his barely beating heart that refused to keep him alive.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“You might need an ICD sooner than we thought.”

“Then I get one.” he tries to sound calm because he doesn’t want to scare her anymore than he already has “You worry too much, princess.”

“How can I not,your heart stopped twice yesterday.” he sees the tears in her eyes and because he can’t handle all the pain he recognizes there, he pulls her down to his chest and holds her close. “I’m scared, Bellamy.”

“Don’t be. I’ll get better. It was stupid of me to stop the pills, but I won’t do it again.”

“How could I know? I was away for a day and you almost died. What happens when I go to college?”

“I guess we never really talked about that, did we?” he asks, stroking her head and kissing her forehead which makes her bury herself in his embrace even closer than she was before. A shiver runs down his spine but he ignores it and tries to push the darkness away.

“I don’t want to.” she says stubbornly like a kid who refused to go to bed and he chuckles.

“I know. But we should.” she moves up into a sitting position, close but not too close before she leans her head on her elbow and he tiredly moves his head to look at her. 

“Okay…Here’s what I think” she begins briefly taking in a breath and closing her eyes before meeting his again “You should come with me to DC.”

“Oh, princess…” he says quietly, reaching out to cup her cheek and pulling her close in for a kiss on the lips. It takes them a while to separate and he tries to express all his feelings into it, all the answers and reasons that he wants to give her, he wants to give in just one simple kiss.

They’ve always been better at gestures than words.

When they separate, he holds her face in his and because he simply can’t stop himself, he pecks her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin-every part of her face he can, he kisses, trying to give her all the love that’s left in him. 

“Clarke-” he says her name with voice barely there just like his body and his heart were…barely there, but still, he wants to emphasize how much this means to him “They didn’t bring me back last night because they are damn good doctors. I’m not saying they’re not it’s just-” he takes in a deep breath “The only reason this old sucker is still beating is because of you.” he takes her hand and puts it on his slowly beating heart. 

She shakes her head stubbornly but he squeezes her hand over his heart.

“I mean it. It’s true.” he cups her cheek and turns her face to him “When I met you I was so goddamn lost and confused and if you were any other person I would probably not be here right now. Alive.”

“You almost wasn’t anyway so your logic lacks sense.”

“That’s not true. You changed my life, Clarke.” he says “You helped me remember who I was-urged me to write again, to keep fighting even when it was all dark. You were there for my mom and my sister when I couldn’t be. You held me when I lost my only parent left on this earth and you never even once complained about it.”

“If I had done all those things then you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital, struggling to stay awake and barely fucking alive, Bellamy.” she spills angrily, refusing to acknowledge his words and sitting up, her legs straddling him but her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, because I’m aware of what you’ll say-that you can’t come with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t leave Octavia behind. I already let her go once and if I completely disappear it will be like she becomes an orphan all over again. I need to keep working and fix our house and…maybe study again,I’m not sure but I know this, you need to leave and not have anything drag you behind while you’re there.”

“Bellamy-”

“You have to start fresh and this is your chance to do it. No more nights alone in your house with your dad away at work. No more fights with your mother or worrying about whether she’s lying in a ditch somewhere dead drunk or spending the night at a bar with strangers. No more…” at that he winces “taking care of fucked up boys who got themselves in trouble.”

“So this is it? You’re breaking up with me?” he doesn’t say anything to that, simply looks at her as his hand moves over to his chest, feeling it too heavy again. She climbs off of him and leans on the bed board near his feet “What if I refuse to do that?”

“Do what?”

“What if I wanted us to try and stay together even after I leave?”

“And how do you suppose long distance works with people like us?”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

“I can’t do that. I won’t ask it of you.” he mumbles tiredly and she can see he’s growing weaker and more sleepy by the second. “It’s not fair to you.”

“How about you let me decide what’s fair?”

“Clarke-”

“Bellamy.” she states calmly refusing to answer to his serious yet pleading voice with which he called her name. “I told you a long time ago-I’m not letting you go.”

“Princess…” he shakes his head “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are. You’re worth it to me.” she circles around and sits by his side, taking his hand in hers again “I love you, Bellamy Blake.”

His eyes fill with tears that spill so easily it looks like waves desperate to find their way to the shore where they’d be home and at peace.

His hand trembles in hers and she doesn’t have to check the monitor to know how slowly his heart is beating but his smile… ** _god his smile is everything, it is joy and it is pain, it is good and it is bad, it is power and it is strength, but most of all, it is life._**

“I love you too, Clarke.” he says back and when she throws herself in his embrace and holds him close this time, she has for the first time in a while hope for him but also for them, that things will somehow, despite it all, miraculously work out.

And she decides to hold onto it. 

Like a wave holds onto the sand before it inevitably gets pulled back into the ocean.

Desperately.

And with all her strength but also with all her love into her heart.


	18. His home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's the end! The story will stay up for a month and then will be deleted.  
> Thank you for reading, all of you, who have stuck with me throughout it all.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @jasperjoordan!

_**SIX YEARS LATER** _

He feels the punch land square in his face and he staggers on his feet as he tries to kick back his opponent.

The pain is shooting, sharp and no matter how hard he tries to protect his face,the guy comes at him hard and pushes him into a corner.

He raises his hands to protect his face-not needing another eye surgery after the one six years ago when Jackson had insisted on while he was in the hospital for his heart.

He said then, if they didn’t operate he could lose his sight but he failed to mention that even after the surgery his left eye remained weaker and everything or mostly all of it he saw was blurry.

I guess you could only take so many punches before you go blind.

But he still had his good one. And his fists worked fine as much as his heart didn’t. 

He was getting weaker, he knew that and the last time he went to Jackson, he had made it clear that this time thing won’t miraculously work out like they had six years ago.

This time, the medication won’t be enough to save him from getting an ICD, this time there was no Clarke to make sure he rested enough, ate regularly, slept for more than a few hours. 

_He was on his own._

When the next punch lands in his stomach he buckles up and sways to the ground.

Another one in his face and a kick in the knee sends him falling.

He rolls on the dirty mats feeling the blood tickle down his mouth and he smiles as he stares at the light on the ceiling. The crowd cheers around him and the guy who beat the crap out of him, who was also three times his size, raises his arms in victory while Anya jumps on the ring and announces him officially the winner.

“Come on, Blake.” he hears Murphy’s voice and feels his hands under his armpits, pulling him up and dragging him to the corner, groaning as he uses all his strength to push him sitting on the small wooden three-legged chair.

He splashes some water over his bloody face and some in his mouth even though when he opens his mouth, there’s nothing but blood and saliva drooling off on his stubbled chin.

“You know, this won’t end well.” Murphy says with a sad shake on of his head “You’ll end up killing yourself.”

“Thanks for trying to fill the void, Murphy, but my mother died six years ago and I don’t need another one.”

“No, what you need is someone to kick your ass back to reality.”

“Just had that happen too. God, Murphy, keep up, will you?”

“Stop joking, Bellamy! Goddammit, you’re pale as a sheet!” his friend bursts angrily not up to dealing with his stupid jokes but Bellamy just shakes his head and tries to give him a soft smile.

Murphy made a comeback to Arkadia after the big hurricane that left Bellamy’s as well as most of the neighborhood’s houses completely demolished.

One night when Bellamy was out there sleeping in a tent in his front yard like many others, he heard someone call his name and after pulling down the zipper and seeing the familiar face, he almost…passed out.

He didn’t give him a clear explanation as to what he was doing back home.

He simply said he saw how devastated Arkadia was on the news and how of course, it was cut off from the rest of the town, receiving only the most meager and necessary supplies while people were left to fend for themselves and crime flourished even more than it had before.

Bellamy was so sick then-he had nothing to eat, no money to buy himself anything, not even bread or eggs, medication was off the question-he had finished his pills a week before the storm had hit and had no way of filling his prescription as all pharmacies were closed and even if they weren’t, again, he had no money to buy them with. 

Sinclair’s garage was closed after being flooded and it’d be at least six months until it reopened.

Same went for the construction building he was working on during the weekends that went down before it was even half built.

The only job he had left was in the diner in Meka.

That same one he used to take Clarke to, the onion rings and the crispy fries they enjoyed so very much were now prepared by him, but even there…he only worked part-time and he had to take three buses to get to the neighborhood or walk an hour and a half which proved to be a lot for his weak, malnourished body. 

And then out of nowhere, came John Murphy.

When he saw Bellamy sleeping like this out there on the wet ground with his full-of-holes tent and nothing else but an old bag and a few bottles of fresh water, he had furrowed his eyebrows and shook his hand.

“Guess I’ll be saving your ass again, huh, Blake?”

He had money.

Bellamy didn’t know where from and honestly, he couldn’t care right now, but he had taken him to a diner that night, fed him and then took him in to Emori’s house where…Bellamy _met his son._

A sweet one and a half year old boy going by the name of Wes who had Murphy’s messy sticky hair and his mom’s eyes.

He was an adorable loving little boy and when he saw Bellamy and Trooper-the only family Bell had left who had somehow survived everything with him in the past six years-he stopped, gave them a curious look, then giggled and fell on his butt.

Trooper looked at Bellamy who nudged him to say hello and a minute later they were playing on the ground together with Wes trying to climb on Trooper’s poor old back. 

“He’s beautiful.” Bellamy tells Murphy who smiles and elbows him in the ribs which almost sends him flying to the floor.

“Like his dad.”

“I heard that!” Emori who’s folding clothes on the couch cuts him off and they both laugh.

They take him in for weeks to come but Bellamy doesn’t want to be too much of a bother so he still goes back to his place and sleeps in his tent.

He’ll need so much money to buy materials so he could fix his house.

The roof was completely destroyed as well as the left side where his mom’s bedroom was-the wall there was completely blown away and if you looked at it, it seemed like someone reached out and simply cut off half of it.

The kitchen was mostly destroyed too and the living room was the only one that was in relatively good condition.

He had to start by fixing the walls, then move to the roof and secure it so this doesn’t collapse again.

The porches-both the front and the back were also mostly destroyed, with holes and broken boards on it.

His mother’s chair, the one he had carved out when he was fifteen,the one she died in, had been carried out by the wind almost a mile down and if he hadn’t been taking a walk around the neighborhood with Trooper and accidentally found it, he would’ve never brought it back home.

On one of those nights, when he’s sitting outside his tent, smoking by the small fire he started with some broken furniture parts he found laying around, Murphy comes by.

At first he thinks this is just a friendly visit, maybe even another one of his speeches that’ll force him to spend the night in their place instead of out here but when he settles down on the ground next to him and takes out his cigarettes without uttering a word, Bellamy knows something else is up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks eyes pinned on his friend. 

“Anya found me today after work.” Murphy utters and Bellamy stiffens next to him “If you’re up to it…I think there may be a way we could find money to fix your house.”

And so it goes.

It feels like nothing in the past six years has changed at all.

He doesn’t have to steal cars this time, he only has to fight…and lose.

That was the condition.

If he lost, she’d pay him twenty percent of the profits but no hospital bills. She didn’t care how hurt he got, all he had to do was show up every Friday, get the shit beaten out of him and he’d get his money.

It’s scary how easy he agreed to it.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt hallow inside and has been ever since his mom died and he lost Octavia, or because he needed to feel something, anything and getting beaten up to a pulp provided that.

He knew that technically, he was getting worse.

There were only so many injuries his body could take on but somehow miraculously, he always recovered enough to go to the underground basement in Anya’s old quarters and fight whoever they had chosen for him.

Murphy was always there to pick him up and patch him after. There wasn’t a lot he could do on the nights Bellamy’s heart simply got too tired and he passed out.

Whenever that happened, and it has been happening more and more often in the past few weeks, he always woke up to his friend looking down at him worriedly, gripping his hand with his and cursing his heart out.

Theoretically Bellamy knew that this couldn’t go on forever.

That one night, he’d pass out and he won’t wake up again, that his heart will refuse to keep pumping blood through his body but he had made his peace with it and the only hope he had was that he’d be able to finish the house before it happens.

He had made great progress in the past month since the weather got better again and Murphy started helping him out when he was done with his shift at the factory in Meka.

Most of the left wall was rebuilt and soon, he could move to the roof.

He had decided to keep things as they were before-restore his mom’s bedroom and his old room but expand a bit on the kitchen and the living room as well as fix the bathroom, change all tiles and broken pipes and make everything new and beautiful.

Not that there was anyone to see it.

But he knew he didn’t have much time left.

Six years ago when he had passed out and Clarke had found him and brought him to the hospital, Jackson had made it clear that things were worse than they’ve anticipated which in doctor language meant that he won’t live to his mother’s age.

When Clarke had left the room to go and grab herself some lunch from the cafeteria, he had asked the doctor to tell him the truth.

He said it’d be a miracle if he made it to thirty. Maybe thirty five if he followed the treatment and lived a stress-free life with good food and more rest. 

He was nearing his twenty fifth now and he knew damn well that Jackson must’ve exaggerated things when he shared his prognosis.

It got harder to move every day, harder to breathe, harder to wake up especially after a fight.

The heaviness in his chest was there all the time now and he had gotten so used to it that he barely even noticed it unless he hurt his ribs and made it harder for himself to pull air in.

The sharp lightening-like pain was there whenever he passed out but quieted after he woke up which made him delude himself that he could keep up this charade for a little while longer.

There was still some fight left in him.

He could keep doing this, work at the diner during the week, fight with Anya’s guys on Friday and maybe if Sinclair reopened the garage soon, he’d have enough to start on the roof in just a few weeks.

“Where to?” Murphy asks him when he helps him clean his face and patches up his sore knuckles. Anya comes in while he’s taking care of his swollen knee which got kicked really bad again this week and hands him the money with a satisfied smirk.

Murphy ignores her fake compliments and doesn’t relax until she’s gone. 

“Home.”

“You really think you should sleep in a tent when you’re fucked up like this?”

“It’s warm outside and I like it there.”

“You’re such a child sometimes, Blake, I swear…” he chuckles at his friend’s shenanigans but lets him help him to the truck.

He was like that now-he let Murphy help, he didn’t really have a choice.

It’s not like he could stand on his own after one of those nights and Murphy always stuck around to make sure he survived the night.

He never said it but…Bellamy knew he was worried he’d come one morning and find him dead just like he had found his mother all those years ago.

The thought of Aurora makes his face falter and his eyes fill with tears like they still did when he remembered her.

He knew she’d disagree with his actions but whenever he had a mental argument about it, whenever he imagined her standing there before him and scolding him, he always reminded himself that he’s doing it to fix their house, her house and as far as ‘last things to do before you die’ came to be, this one was worth it.

“Okay, here we go.” Murphy announced as e pulled up in front of the ruins of his home and jumped out, coming to his side and helping him out. 

He leaned heavily on him and maybe, if he hadn’t almost tripped over and send them both to the ground, at least Murphy would’ve noticed the figure sitting on the broken front steps.

But he doesn’t and neither does Bellamy who’s too busy trying to keep himself from passing out.

“Bellamy”

He stops dead on his feet and Murphy stumbles at the rash movement almost falling down himself.

“What the fuck-” he curses and when he follows Bellamy’s eyes up, he lets a quiet “I’ll be damned.” in a whisper.

He can’t quite believe his eyes or more likely, he refuses to.

The last time he saw Clarke was over four years ago and when he looked at her now, he felt his vision blur, go black and he has to command his heart to calm down so he doesn’t just pass out right then and there.

Her hair is shorter now, she’s wearing a leather dark green jacket and tight black jeans with boots that were much more like his own than anything he’s seen on her before.

Thankfully the meager light coming from the street illuminates her face as she stands up and takes a step to them so he can see her beautiful blue eyes.

And feel himself breathe for the first time in a very long time.

The truth was that after she left for college, they did try it her way.

Stubbornly, they kept on talking once a week and exchanging letters like before when he was in juvie. She’d come home at least once a month and it was the best day of Bellamy’s pathetic existence.

He had managed to finish his GED and he still saw Octavia twice a month back then but she had…changed a lot.

She was growing up and shaping herself to be a strong independent kid much to his aunt’s surprise.

She wanted to wear weather jackets and listen to rock blasting from her room in full volume. She rarely spoke to him now and whenever they went out, it wouldn’t last for more than an hour.

He knew she was ashamed of him, even now, she wanted him to come to Hydra or insisted they met in Meka but she never once set foot in their childhood home once she turned thirteen.

So Clarke truly had been the best thing for him back then but with time she stopped returning his emails and he too fell too sad to even write anything, too empty.

What was he to talk about? His everyday boring life? Waking up, walking Trooper, going to work, coming home and passing out? While she was out there living her best life-learning all there was about the human body, dissecting cadavers, watching top surgeons perform open heart surgeries, going to parties with her buddies, trying her hand out at different subjects?

So the emails and letters (they still stupidly wrote on paper sometimes) stopped and none of them talked about it really.

He tried to make a lame excuse once about wanting to send one but getting to the post office too late and then getting buried at work. When she said it was fine and it was the way she said it-with voice light, like she didn’t really mind not getting it, he knew that this was the beginning of the end.

He was holding on to her because he needed her but that was fucked up. It wasn’t love, it was dependence. And she kept calling him because she knew he needed her to do that, because maybe deep down she too, realized that without her, he’d have no reason to live at all.

But all of this was wrong.

He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t use her like that. 

He had to set her free.

And he didn’t really have to try that hard. She still kept calling every week but then she had to skip a month coming home because of some big project at work, then another when they started doing shifts at the hospital and then one more when her dad came to visit her during one of his work trips.

He stopped picking up when she called and when he felt too bad for hurting her he’d send her a text apologizing that he was busy at work or that he passed out. 

Finally after they haven’t seen each other in over four months, he picked up when she called on a not so busy Thursday afternoon while he was out on a smoke break in front of Sinclair’s garage.

They exchanged a few polite lines, the 'How are yous' and the 'I'm fine's, the the weather’s nice today and how’s classes or work and after, when the silence consumed them, he took a deep breath, put off his cigarette and told her he thinks maybe she should stop calling.

He heard her break on the other line and that surprised him-he didn’t want to hurt her, make her cry but this was for the better, he was certain about it-he had to set her free.

She never called again. Never wrote.

One time a few months before the hurricane, he was out in Meka visiting Octavia, which was a rarity these days too, where he thought he saw a flash of blond hair on the other street, around the corner of the diner with the onion rings where he worked part time, but he had convinced himself that this was all his brain playing tricks on him, it hadn’t been the first time, so he pushed it at the back of his mind.

Except he could never really push the thought of Clarke away.

She had been there every day when he woke up, every time he felt he was breathing a little harder, every night before he closed his eyes.

She was there.

And he knew he didn’t even deserve to think about her or wonder where she is or what she’s doing but his heart still beat with love for her and the only other wish he had aside from fixing his house, was to see her once more before the fucker in his chest gave out completely.

He guesses his wish came true.

“Okay, I think I’l let you deal with that one on your own, Blake.” Murphy says patting his chest lightly.

“We still going to the hardware store tomorrow?” he asks his friend hopefully before Murphy can leave and he responds with a light smile.

“Sure. If you can stand on your feet.”

“I’ll be fine. Tell Emori and Wes I said hi.”

“Will do.” Murphy promises “Good luck with this one.” he addresses Clarke for the first time since they saw her and then he’s off, heading to his old truck and leaving them there to stand on the small lane leaning to the house, completely stunned.

He’s breathing heavily, body twisted a bit to the left, hand wrapped around his ribs but his eyes simply can’t move away from her.

“You mind sitting over there, I just don’t know how much longer I can keep standing.” he gestures at the porch which he had started fixing only yesterday. She nods, still not saying anything but once they settle down he lets out a hurtful groan and grips the railing beside him to ground himself.

“You look like someone beat the shit out of you.” she finally speaks, her voice comes out more serious and somehow…thicker than it was before, like it grew with her.

“And you look like you want to have a round at me yourself, princess.” he only half-jokes. She did seem angry and he can’t blame her, not after the way he ended things, not after he hurt her so badly even if it was for her own good. “What are you doing here?”

“I decided to come back home, do my residency here at Jackson’s hospital.” she explains and he hums in agreement but stares at his patched up hands that were bleeding through the bandages Murphy wrapped around him. He was ashamed to look at her, not knowing what he’ll find in her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to come home for a while now.”

“Not happy with the big city?”

“It’s…just too busy and not really who I am.” she still runs her hand through her hair when she’s nervous except now that it’s shorter the gesture doesn’t really bring her any calming results so her hand ends up back in her lap faster and he can see she’s quite anxious “When I heard about the hurricane and what happened here…I-I just knew it was time to come back.”

He smiles and shakes his head as she gives him a confused look.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…it’s just that after all this time you’re still…well you. You came here to help the people who no one else wants to deal with.”

“Someone has to.”

“I agree.” he says seriously “There are kids around, families that have suffered a lot. They could use a bad ass blond princess doctor in their corner.” he reaches to touch her knee even if briefly and she stiffens under him which makes him pull away, immediately cursing himself for doing that before she grabs his wrist and puts his hand back on her knee, giving him a warm smile in reassurance.

He takes a moment to look at her, really look at her again before he sighs and his head falls down to his old boots, the same ones she bought for him six years ago.

“What are you really doing here, Clarke?” he asks again and she knows he doesn’t mean the town, he means Arkadia, his place, his broken house, his front yard.

“I’ve missed you.” she says simply like it holds all the answers in the world but her voice comes out small, worried, like she’s afraid he’ll reject her but all he does is squeeze her knee a bit in reassurance and give her a small smile.

“It’s been four years.”

_Yet not a day has gone by in which I didn’t think about you_ , he wants to say but he doesn’t feel like he has the right to.

“I’ve missed you too.” he says and thought it doesn’t fix everything that’s broken and doesn’t make all the pain they’ve caused each other go away, there’s still this…peaceful warmth that settles in his chest and makes his heart trump a little easier.

“So your house…”

“The hurricane destroyed the roof and the left wall but Murphy and I have been working on it.”

“What’s with the bruises?”

“It’s how I get the money for all the stuff I need to do it.” he admits and he wants to feel ashamed but he really doesn’t “I fight.” she furrows her eyebrows at that but then covers his hand with hers in a support. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t really have that much time left and I want to finish it before I go.”

“Before you go where?” she asks confused and he looks at her surprised.

“Judging by that response I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Jackson?” she shakes her head at that and he sighs, this time he’s the one running his hand through his messy curls “Well…I haven’t been to a check up in a while but the last time we talked he nailed the coffin at me living up till I’m thirty…thirty five at best.” she sucks in a breath next to him and he knows he should probably stop here but he wants to be honest with her “However I think he’s a little bit too optimistic.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

“Clarke-” he shakes his head trying to tell her there’s no need to fight this. “It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Well I haven’t.” he laughs at that, god, had he missed her stubbornness. “How long has it been since you’ve been to a doctor? Do you take your pills?”

“Princess, I don’t even have money for food right now.” he says sadly “If Murphy wasn’t there to save my ass after the storm…I probably wouldn’t have made it to sit here next to you.” her face falls at that and he leans back on the stairs, looking up at the sky, thinking of that time years ago, when this house was whole, when his mom was alive and his sister was sleeping next to him and he was…being a stupid teenage boy who sat on the window still and looked at the night sky thinking of the stars and how beautiful it all was, desperate to find the poetry in everything, to believe that life was good.

And he still, despite it all, thought it was. There were good stuff out there, beautiful stuff…one of them was sitting next to him, making his heart flutter in his chest like it hadn’t in years. 

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” she whispers, eyes filling with tears “I’m sorry that I stopped writing you letters, that we…that we didn’t talk so much, that I-”

“Don’t.” he interrupts her intertwining her fingers with his “If anyone’s to blame it’s me. I hurt you so much when you last called.” his eyes meet hers and he scoots a bit closer “I never wanted to-” he chokes on the words and she puts her hand on his neck, pulling his head closer so that their foreheads are touching.

“Shh, it’s okay. I understand.” she promises cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb under his eye “Maybe it was meant to happen like that. Maybe we had to hurt each other in order to get back to each other again.”

He smiles.

“I like the sound of that.” he pulls away “But I…I’m not sure if you should stick around.”

“Bellamy-”

“I’m dying, Clarke.” he says stubbornly when he completely disentangles himself from her “May be a few years down the road, maybe more or less but I…You know how it will go.” he shakes his head when she tries to open her mouth and argue with him “I realize now…mom was lucky, it happened fast with her but it may not be the same with me and I don’t want you sticking around, taking care of a sick person just because your heart is too big.”

“Bellamy, I-”

“Please, let me finish” he begs of her “Even if it doesn’t make sense…even if no one will use it for anything, I want to fix this house. I have to work, maybe keep fighting for as long as I can and rebuilt it. It was my mother’s home, our home and I have to do it before I-” he chokes on that “And I don’t want to have anyone getting hurt by me in the process.”

“You’re missing one great detail in your big ass plan, Blake.” she says and it’s that same stubborn voice she uses like the one he first heard from her years ago when her dad and her caught him in the garage and brought him to their kitchen.

“What’s that?”

“Me.”

“Clarke-”

“I want to stay. I want to stick around and help you fix your house. I want to be there when you fall sick and can’t get out of bed. I want to be there when you struggle to stay awake or when you wake up in pain. I want to be there-” her voice breaks a little “if you die.” He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t a matter of If, but then again his heart was breaking all over again when he listened to her say all that.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t know if I can be what you…need me to be anymore, Clarke.”

“Except I don’t need you to be anything but just my friend. Let me stay, let me help you.”

“You’ll get hurt.” he insists, stubbornly throwing his hands in the air, frustrated that she doesn’t understand his point “ _Don’t you get it?_ I’ll bring you pain.”

“Life _is_ pain.” she insists “But we still keep pushing despite it all. Remember when you told me that?” he really had, a long time ago, during one of their conversation when he was still in juvie.

“Clarke-” he whispers painfully as a plea.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you, Blake.” she whispers, moving her face closer to his, leaning her forehead against his own, cupping his face once more “I’m not going anywhere.”

A few months later she’s laying down a blanket on the beach while he tries to keep himself standing next to her without her arm wrapped tightly around him to prevent him from falling.

He’s staring right ahead and smiling at the waves. Trooper’s eager to jump in the water but doesn’t run in there until Bellamy pats his head and tells him to go have his fun.

They laugh when they watch him try to eat the small waves and she helps him sit down, pushing his head to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around him.

He breathes her in, that familiar scent of lavender and old wood overwhelms him even if he falls asleep to it every night in their bed in the house with the half finished roof and the yellow flowers in the backyard.

It never seizes to amaze him how much his heart beats just for her, how it fills with light and warmth whenever he is close to her, how the air gets a little easier to breathe.

He kisses her neck knowing it will make her a bit ticklish and of course, she squirms a bit which makes him chuckle but she holds him close and leans to kiss his forehead.

“You tease.” she whispers as she brushes a few of the curls from his forehead.

“Come here.” he puts his hand on her neck and pulls her head down for a short kiss that however fills his body with the warmth it needed so desperately.

After, they just stay like this, him in her embrace, watching Trooper have his fun before he gets tired and slowly walks back to Bellamy, curling up near his feet.

When he gets tired and his bones feel heavy, she feels it and pulls his head down to her lap where she runs her fingers through his curls and he watches the sun go down and get swallowed by the ocean.

“Are you still afraid?” he asks her, moving his head so that he sees her eyes “Of the ocean?”

She shakes her head.

“Not when I’m with you.” her response is a whisper followed by a soft kiss on his forehead that makes him smile. He finds her hand and intertwines their fingers.

One day he’ll ask her to take him to the water, let the waves beat in his cold bare feet one last time, but today wasn’t going to be that day and he hoped it wouldn’t have to be for just a little bit longer because as hard as life has been, as much as all the awful things that had happened to him in his short time on this earth had left him broken and barely standing, he still wouldn’t trade them for anything because he knew they had to happen so that he ends up here.

In the arms of his one love, being the small wave getting lost in the ocean that was her.

His home.


End file.
